


The Hand That Reaches for God

by themoonandotherslikeit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Anger, Angst, Child Abuse, Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Holocaust, Love, Major character death - Freeform, Mutants, Mutual Pining, Nuclear War, PTSD, Rape, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Violence, War, Zombie, angsty kids, apocalypse au, dark!fic, otp, radiation, sad things, this is not a happy story, when will they ever learn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-01-04 06:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 109,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18338216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandotherslikeit/pseuds/themoonandotherslikeit
Summary: Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester.So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again.When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “One of these mornings, it won’t be long, you’ll call my name, and I’ll be gone.” - Oscar Isaac

 

**-8 Hours Before-**

 

The house smelled like medicine.

Growing up, Emerson always felt like her house smelled like some kind of baked good. It always smelled like cinnamon sugar cookies, and hot lemon tea. Her mother was a terrible cook, but she knew how to bake. Emerson thought it was a miracle that her and her identical twin sister, Ophelia, weren’t unbearably overweight. Especially Pheli, with her inability to say no to _just one more cookie_.  
  
Pheli was the kind of girl that everybody liked. She was made of sugar and breadcrumbs. She looked like the kind of girl that lived among the flowers. Growing up she was always the class favorite. Her smile would light up a room, where Emerson’s bad attitude would get her sent to the principal office so frequently that she had a chair with an imprint of her ass on it. She frequently was jealous of her sisters wiles. Ophelia seemed to have the ability to bat her eyelashes, and move mountains. It didn’t seem fair, but Emerson would soon learn that almost everything in life was unfair.

The house didn’t smell like baked goods, or lemon tea, or the flowers from Pheli’s hair anymore. Now it smelled like medicine. It smelled like sterile bed sheets, and oxygen. It smelled like pre-death.  
  
The Maklen sisters changed their last name when their father left, in solidarity, to stand with their mother. The girls were no longer the Wilson’s. They didn’t fit in the mold that Carl and his mustache left. The two tween girls and their mother burned all of the belonging’s he left in the house ceremoniously. They danced around the flames, and consumed an entire bottle of red wine.  
     
Both girls adored their mother, from her kind eyes, to her full laugh. They thought she was the most beautiful woman to walk the planet Earth. All the girls could hope for when they grew up, was that someday they would be half the woman their mother was and twice the cook. They didn’t expect to have to say goodbye to her so soon, but then again, saying goodbye was never something that can be planned for. It always seemed too soon, even if there was all the time in the world.  
  
The house smelled like medicine, because their mother was dying. Her MS had gotten so bad that she was on a ventilator. She couldn’t move, and she had a permanent live in nurse. Emerson was convinced that she wasn’t even there anymore. _  
_

_“She’s a husk, Pheli. We should just be done. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”_

_“How could you say that?”_  
  
_“Look at her!” Emerson gestured to their mothers slumped body in hospital bed in the living room. “She doesn’t go to the bathroom by herself. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t talk!”_  
  
_“She’s our Mom, Em.” Pheli said weakly, her hands dropping to her side._  
  
_“I know who she is.”_  
  
Ophelia forced Emerson to be the logical one. To be the harsh one. Emerson liked to think it was because she was the big sister, even by two minutes. It was her duty to carry the difficulties for both of them.

I took a lot of talking, crying, and shouting to finally come to an agreement. It was time. It was time to let her go. So they packed up their bags at the beginning of Summer break, during their senior year of college, and decided to come back home.

They came back to the town they grew up in, to the green grass, and lazy people lounging on their front porches with an early afternoon beer in hand. Emerson went away to college to escape their old neighborhood. To escape the people who still saw her as the stringy haired girl with braces. The one who beat up all the boys. She wanted to escape their stares, and their jokes, but most of all she wanted to escape him.  
  
So, imagine her surprise, when the girls pulled up to their childhood home, just to see Dean Winchester waltz out of his front door to grab the newspaper, of all things. “Sam.” Emerson hissed, eyeing Ophelia’s boyfriend, and Dean’s younger brother, in the rear view mirror. “What is he doing here?”

Sam shrugged, and ran his finger through his shaggy hair. He was trying to grow it out for a man bun, and Ophelia supported the idea. She was always trying out new kinds of braids, and was excited to have someone to practice on. “Dunno, Em.”  
  
_Liar_ , Emerson thought. She knew the boys kept in pretty constant communication. They were almost as needy as she and Ophelia were.  
  
Dean was four years older than the girls and Sam. He seemed to always be around when she was growing up, but the older they got the more annoying he was. He’d bring bimbos to their hangouts, and he always ended up smoking pot or sneaking alcohol into their basement. _  
_

_“Dean you’re going to get us in trouble,” Ophelia complained as he lit up a cigarette.  
_

_“God you’re such a girl.”  
_

_“That's offensive, ass.” Emerson said, punching his arm.  
_

_“Sammy, you seriously gonna let them talk to me that way?”  
_

_Sam shrugged. “Probably.”_

The four of them were always stuck together. The boys were inseparable, just like the sister’s, and once Sam and Pheli started dating, the four of them were laced and tangled together. No matter what Emerson did, she couldn’t shake Dean Winchester loose. He was always there, seemingly lurking around the corner.  
  
“This is just not what I need this weekend.” Emerson complained, quietly.  
     
Pheli reached for her sister and squeezed her arm. “Hey, don’t worry about him. This weekend is about us. It's about Mom.” She said softly. “Don’t let anything else distract you.”  
  
Em sighed, letting out all the breath in her lungs in a single huff. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.”  
  
The girls smiled at each other warmly, as Emerson parked the car.  
  
Sam ducked out of the back seat stretching his arms into the air. “That drive will never not suck.” He complained gently, before resting his arm across Ophelia’s shoulders. He was almost an entire foot taller than her, and sometimes when they were together it was almost comical.  
  
Dean was still standing in the driveway, looking dumbfounded in his pajama pants and ratty AC/DC t-shirt. He gave Emerson a half wave, and she wiggled her fingers back at him.  
  
When she was a junior in high school, and he was twenty-one he decided to join the military. He was gone for so long that she barely remembered what he looked like, that was until he came home for his first Christmas back. It was her last Christmas before college. His hair was short, and he had developed muscles that she didn’t know existed. He was wearing his camouflage uniform, buttoned and steamed pristinely, as he waltzed up to her door. _  
_

_“Hey Em.”  
_

_“Dean.”_  
  
“Hm.”  
  
“What?” She asked, crossing her arms.  
  
“Just not used to people calling me that. I’m just Winchester in the military.”  He was standing up completely straight, and there was little snark to his voice.  
  
Emerson raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess they would, wouldn’t they?”  


_“It’s pretty weird.” He said, scratching the back of his head.  
_

_“Did you need something?”_  
  
“What? Oh… no. I don’t.” He said curtly. “Just letting you know I’m home.”  
  
“Cool.” She said awkwardly, leaning against the door frame.  
  
“Well, guess I’ll see ya later.”  


_“Guess so.” She said, slowly shutting the door. His hand slipped in, catching the door before she could shut it. “What?”  
_

_“Merry Christmas.” He said, before letting the door click shut._

He looked different now. His hair was longer, not long like Sam’s, but longer than she saw him with in awhile. He looked tired, his shoulders were slumped and he had purple half moons under his eyes from lack of sleep.  
  
_“This weekend is about us. It’s about Mom. Don’t let anything else distract you.”_ Her sisters words echoed in her head. She was right, of course she was.

Emerson pulled her bag out of the backseat of the car and walked up the steps, unlocking the door to the house. She instantly got a whiff of something musty and her nose curled up. “Phel, go open up all the windows?”

The nursing staff had taken their mom back to the hospital per Emerson’s request. She didn’t want to have to take care of the body once they pulled the plug, if they were in the hospital the staff did that. She knew she would have bigger things to worry about. She knew Pheli wouldn't handle it well. She was such a delicate flower. 

  
“Sure.” She went to go open up the windows, and Sam followed her like a puppy. He’d been doing that his whole life, and if Emerson was being honest, it was beginning to lose its charm. Maybe she was just turning into a cynic.  
  
Their mothers hospital bed was still in the middle of the living room. A flimsy mattress on wheels. Medical supplies were covering every spare counter space. An IV bag still hung on its pole over their mothers bed, the tube swinging in the fresh air that rushed through the house. _  
_

This is going to be such a pain to clean up. Emerson started to make a mental checklist of everything she had to do. She had to return all of the medical supplies, call the funeral home, set up a service, call the lawyers… her thoughts rattled off, only being interrupted by a rap at the door. _  
_

Christ, what now?

She drug herself to the front door, swinging it open. “Yes?”

Dean grinned back at her. She looked him up and down, noticing that he decided to change into some real pants, even if the jeans did have holes in them. “Wow, so chipper, Em.”

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

He shrugged, pushing past her. “Just noticed you guys pulling up. I’m going to this party tonight, if you guys want to come.”

“A party? Seriously?” Her eyes followed him, locking on his bare skin poking out from his short sleeved shirt. “Did Sam not tell you why we were here?”  
  
“No?” He groaned, hopping up on the counter.  
  
Emerson rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She eyed the six foot tall man that was now swinging his legs like a child off the edge of her mothers countertop.  
  
“But I did forget that you’re boring. You’d never go to a party. Can’t have any fun.” He teased, his green eyes challenging her.  
  
Emerson rolled her eyes. “Get a fucking grip, Winchester. We are here for Mom.” Her tone hit him like a truck, causing him to suck in his breath.

“Mom… is Jana okay?”

“No. She isn’t.” Emerson said harshly, even though she shouldn't have. He obviously didn’t know.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, before gathering up her long blonde hair, and twisting it in to a bun on the top of her head. “We are letting her go, Dean. She’s been on the vent for a year. It’s time.”

His eyes softened, his lips parting to let out a whoosh of air. “What? Shit… I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She snapped. “How could you know? Not like we talk anymore. All you’re worried about is the fucking party. So go would you?”

He winced and hopped down off the counter. “Fine. Don’t have to ask me twice. Tell Sammy to come by and see his big brother.” He said before pushing out into the yard, slamming the door behind him, causing the frame to rattle.

“What was that?” Ophelia called from the back room. 

  
“Nothing Phel!” Emerson called back, before pressing her back against the door, and slowly sliding to the floor. She captured her face in her hands and let out a low scream, tears stinging her eyes. It was all just too hard. Too damn hard. She let her head hit the door, hoping for a little clarity that didn’t come.  
  
Maybe she should go to the party after all.

  
**-4 Hours Before-**

 

Sam was being unsurprisingly helpful. He was able to reach everything on the top shelf, and he and Pheli weren’t even being as flirtatious as they usually were. They’d been cleaning, and organizing, and making calls for the last four hours and Emerson just about had it. She fell back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling fan.

“Sam?”

“Sup?” He asked, poking his head out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water.  
  
“The fan is so fucking dusty. I doubt anyone has cleaned it in ten years.” She commented, staring at the fluff that was poking over the edge of the fan, threatening to float down, directly into her face.

“I’m on it, boss.” He said with a grin. She didn’t see it, but she heard it in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting a headache.” Pheli complained. “Can we get something to eat? Take a little break?”

“Oh that sounds awesome.” Sam agreed.

The couple poked their heads over the side of the couch, and Emerson slowly opened her eyes to catch them staring at her. “What do you say, Em?”

“We have so much to do, Phel.” Emerson sighed. _I’m the bad guy, again._  
  
“I’m sure you need a break, too.” She said quietly. “Come on. Look at you, you’re wiped. We have all Summer to clean the house... it doesn’t have... it doesn’t have to be done before we go to the hospital in the morning.”  
  
Emerson watched her sisters fingers go into her mouth, as she bit at her cuticles. It was an anxious habit that their mother had tried to break her of, but she never quite could. Emerson didn’t bother mentioning it in that moment, though, it wasn’t important. Not really. _  
_

“But I did forget that you’re boring. You’d never go to a party. Can’t have any fun.” Dean’s voice entered her head at that moment. Maybe she couldn’t have any fun, but that didn’t mean Pheli didn’t deserve some. She was about to lose her mother, after all. Emerson pressed her lips together, making a decision that she was sure she would regret.  
  
“Fine. Let’s have fun tonight.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Dean mentioned a party to me earlier.”  
  
“You talked to Dean?” Phel asked, raising her eyebrows.  
  
“Do you want to go, or not?”

“Yes!” Ophelia said quickly, eyeing Sam. He shrugged in response. “Call him, tell him we’re in.” She looked excited, her face lighting up. It was enough to make Emerson stand up, and walk right over to the Winchester house and knock.

“I got it!” She heard Dean shout from behind the front door. The lock clicked and the door swung open. His green eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, Em, hey.” He scratched the back of his head, exposing a bulge of muscle under the skin on his bicep.  
     
She shifted uncomfortably, tugging on a hair that was coming out of her bun. “I talked to Pheli, and she is interested in the party... so do you have the details?”

“You want to go to a party?” Dean asked, flustered.  
  
Emerson raised an eyebrow, confused by his reaction to her. Maybe it was all the time that had passed, or maybe it was the fact that he knew that her mother would be dead in less than 24 hours, that was making him squirm. “Not me, but Pheli, and well, where she goes I go.”  
  
“Right, I’m just surprised.”  
  
“I can see that.” Emerson smirked. “You going to give me the details, or not?”  
  
“Actually... not.” Dean said, his eyebrow quirked upward.  
  
“And why the fuck not?”

“Relax, Maklen.” He laughed lightly. “I just don’t think that party is a good idea, but I do have something else in mind. I’ll pick you up in an hour? Tell Sammy to come over here. I want to talk to him.”  
  
He shut the door before she could argue. Her lips were hung open, her jaw slack. She let out a huff of air and turned on her heels, marching back to her own front door. He is so fucking annoying. She shook her head, not believing she agreed to spend her last night before the worst day of her life with him, of all people. You’re spending the night with Pheli. Not him. She reminded herself.

“So, what’s the four-one-one?” Pheli asked, anxiously, the moment Emerson walked in the front door.

“Well, we aren’t going to a party.” She began, and watched her sisters face melt in front of her.

“Oh.”

“Hey don’t give me that. We aren’t going to a party because Dean Winchester has something else in mind for tonight.” Emerson pursed her lips. “So if you’re wanting to risk that, then he is picking us up in an hour.”

Ophelia’s face lit up again. “Sweet! I’ll get changed.”  
  
“Oh, and Sam, he wants to see you.” Emerson added before pointing to the front door. “So, I guess we will see you in an hour?”

“Guess so.” Sam offered, with a shrug, before kissing Pheli’s forehead and walking out the front door.  
  
The girls went up the stairs to their old, shared bedroom. It was all flowers and sheer curtains. Lanterns were strung over their beds. Clearly Ophelia was the interior designer, and Emerson was just living in it. “So...” Pheli started, as she lowered herself in front of her vanity. “When did you see Dean?”

“In the yard.” Emerson said, dumbly, sitting on the edge of her bed. She had no intention of changing out of her jeans and t-shirt to hangout in some mysterious location with the boys next door.

“I was with you in the yard, he didn’t mention a party. So try again?” Her sister asked her, eyeing her in the mirror as she let down her own blonde hair.

“He came by after that. When you were opening all the windows.” Emerson said, nonchalantly.  
  
“Oh, sure. That’s not worth mentioning.” Ophelia rolled her eyes, before running a brush through her hair. “Then what happened?”  
  
“He came inside and was an ass, like usual. He invited us out, and I told him we weren’t exactly here to party.”

Pheli sat her brush down and turned on her stool. “Ah, Em. You told him about Mom.”

Emerson pinched the bridge of her nose and shrugged. “Guess I did.” 

“I know you guys don’t get along, but do you really think he’s that big of a monster that he would just gloss over that fact once you told him?”

“Kind of.” She admitted with a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to knock him down a peg. He is so... infuriating. You know? Cocky.”

“Cocky.” Ophelia echoed.  
  
“That’s what I said.” Emerson said, her cheeks heating up.  
     
“I know.” She grinned back at her sister. “Just making sure you heard it, too.” She shrugged.  
  
Dean Winchester had always been a lot to handle. Between his car and women, the only reason she could deal with him at all, was the way he was with his brother. He never let anyone bully Sam growing up, and in turn, never let anyone mess with the girls, either.

“You know, you two are freakishly similar, right?” Pheli added, as she touched up her makeup.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t see it? Even after all this time, you’re both the same.” She rolled her eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Emerson asked, standing up. She crossed her arms.  
  
“Okay, I guess we have to do this now.” Pheli said, finishing her lipstick. She glanced at herself one more time before turning to her sister. “Ever since we were kids you’ve both liked each other. Don’t bother arguing, I’m your sister. I have twinsense. I can tell who you like, even if you’re too stubborn to see it. When he came home for Christmas from Afghanistan he was here to see you. Now you just have to decide how you feel, because watching this dance is honestly exhausting.” She stood up and walked to her sister. “Now lets get you changed, because I’m not letting you go to this thing wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”  
  
Emerson rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother arguing. She never bothered with Ophelia. She could talk her face blue, just to get the person she was arguing with to give in. Emerson didn’t see the point in trying to prove someone wrong who refused to listen to reason.

Ophelia dressed Emerson in a black dress, and let her hair down. She slid into her ankle boots, and hid behind her red plaid flannel, before meeting the Winchester brothers on the front porch.  
  
Dean leaned against his Impala with his arms crossed. He wore a flannel that was pretty similar to Ems, over his AC/DC shirt, jeans, and boots. Sam had a blue button up, and looked like he finally brushed his hair. Ophelia leapt into his arms and he spun her around, kissing her. Emerson walked to Dean. “So, where are we headed?”  
  
“It’s a surprise, Em. Don’t you know how to relax?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“No.” She said, before opening the back door and sliding into the back seat. She watched the scenery fly past them as they sped down the road. The world blurred like sidewalk chalk in the rain.

“Here we are.” Dean said, pulling up to the pier.  
  
Emerson raised her eyebrow. “Please tell me we aren’t going fishing.”

“No.” Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Better.” He pulled out the keys and slid out of the car. The girls eyed each other and Pheli shrugged, taking Sams hand.

The brothers lead the girls to the end of the dock where a large sail boat was  tied. Dean gave a goofy grin, before hopping up on the deck. “All aboard!”

“Do you day that to all your dates?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“Whose is this?” Emerson asked, watching Sam hoist Pheli up onto the boat. “Dean Winchester, whose boat is this?”

“One of my officers, relax. He’s still overseas, and I clean it for him.” He shrugged. “He’s fine if I take it out.”  
     
“You never cared about sailing before.” Emerson said, pursing her lips.

Dean rolled his eyes and offered her his hand. “Like you said, we don’t talk anymore, so you don’t really know what I’m into. Just trust me.” There was something about the softness to his green eyes that made her groan and rest her hand in his. He pulled her up, whipping her into his arms. ”Hey there, Sweetheart.” He murmured, his face close to hers.

“Let me go.” She said shortly, and he released her from his grip.

“Alright, folks. So we have refreshments down below, I hope you are all ready for the most epic goodbye party I could come up with in an afternoon.” He grinned widely and started to untie the boat from the dock.  
  
Emerson met her sister at the front of the boat, while Sam helped Dean get the boat out of the harbor. “Do they know what they’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” Pheli admitted. “But it sure is beautiful, isn’t it?”  
  
“It is.” Emerson admitted, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The girls watched the boat leave the harbor and Emerson suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. She turned her face away from Pheli. She promised herself a long time ago that she wouldn’t cry around her sister. There was only one emotional Maklen sister, and it wouldn’t be her.  
  
“Phel, come here! I got you a drink.”

“Duty calls.” Her sister said with a grin before walking back to her boyfriend.

Emerson gripped the railing and felt the tears sting her eyes. She blinked a few times, urging them to leave her, like the boat left the dock. “Hey.” His voice invaded her space, causing her to jump.  
  
“Shit, Winchester.” She exhaled, eyeing Dean.  
  
“Got you something.” He said, offering her a beer.

“May need something stronger.” She admitted as she took the beer from him. She took a swig and wiped a tear from her cheek. If he noticed it, he didn’t mention it, and she was grateful for that.  
  
“Got that too.” He grunted, pulling a flask from his pocket.

“Thank god. Your wild ways are finally worth something.” She said, taking the flask from him. She unscrewed the top and took a swig, letting the warm whiskey roll down her throat.

“Damn.” Dean laughed, as she took another swig. “Maybe I was wrong about you after all.”

She eyed him. Could she be wrong about him too? “Maybe you were.” She handed him back the flask, and he met her eyes as he took a swig himself, replacing the cap.

“Don’t put it away so fast.” She said softly, her voice almost lost in the wind from the sail.

“Keep pace, Sweetheart.”  
  
“I’m not your Sweetheart.”

“I know.” He said, his eyes traveling from her eyes to her lips. “Trust me, I know.”  
  
“Good.” She said, peeling her eyes away from his, and back out to the ocean. “It’s endless, isn’t it?”  
  
“Sure seems that way, sometimes.”  
  
“I like it.” She admitted. “I hate endings.”

“I know what you mean.” He said, leaning over the railing. “But sometimes an end can be a new beginning. One door closes another opens, and all that.”  
  
“Where’s the other door for this?” Emerson asked him. “Where’s the way out?” She turned to him, catching him staring at her. Her blonde hair blew in the sea breeze and he reached forward pushing a piece behind her ear.

“This time it may be a window. Sometimes you gotta get creative.”

“You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”

“Do you think I’m cute?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and suddenly she was shot back to reality.

“No.” She took a swig of her beer and focused on the horizon again. “Skys beautiful.”

“Sometimes, when things are real shitty, I look up at the sky.” He said with a shrug. “Sort of makes everything else seem small. All my problems, what the fuck are they compared to the sky?”

“They feel pretty big from down here.” She admitted.  
  
He cracked a sad smile. “I get what you mean.”

“Why are you back, anyway?” Emerson asked, eyeing him. “Where’s the famous Lisa that I’ve heard so much about?”  
  
Dean’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name and he turned to Emerson. “We aren’t exactly friends, Em. Maybe we should just keep the talk to the sky, and the sea. Not get too serious.”

“You invited me here to... what? Get fucked up before I have to kill my mom in the morning? Not exactly a time to be telling me what I’m allowed to talk about.”

He ran his fingers over his face, almost as if he was trying to wipe away the growing frown on his lips. _  
_

“You know your face is going to get stuck that way if you keep that up.” We’d tell him when we were kids.  
  
_“Yeah, fuck you, too.”_ He’d cleverly retort.  
  
“I heard keeping shit bottled up makes you have premature wrinkles.” She said, running her fingers over her own forehead where his had deep thoughtful, frown lines.

“There’s nothin premature about me, baby.” He said, looking at her through perfectly curled eyelashes.

“God.” She groaned, turning away from him. “I don’t know why I even bother.” She pulled her flannel together, suddenly feeling over exposed. “You’re exactly the same as you’ve always been. You’ve never said a single thing that’s real in your entire life! Have you?”

“And you do?” He laughed, turning toward her. “We all have defense mechanisms. Mine is humor. Yours is bitchiness.”

“I’m sorry, _bitchiness_?”

“Did I stutter?” He asked, inching so close to her that their chests brushed gently.

“I do not hide behind bitchiness.”

“You’re doing it right now.” Dean laughed, gesturing to her. “You’re too busy worrying about how Phel’s doin that you don’t even let yourself be sad about your mom. That’s thirty levels of fucked up.”

“And what about you? Sargent Dean Winchester with the US Army, back at home at twenty-seven living with Mommy and Daddy? What the fuck is that about? Where’s your fiancé, Dean?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business.” He stared down into her golden eyes, challenging her. “You offered up the information about your mom, I didn’t pry. So stop weaseling into my business.”

“Whose hiding behind bitchiness now?”  
  
He made her crazy. She wanted to punch him, like she did when she was eight and he pissed her off. She broke his nose. It was a life highlight for her. She wanted to hit him, but there was something else. He smelled like pine soap, and the whiskey he was drinking. His face was damp from the sea spray, and the sun had finally dipped below the ocean. She could see him clearly in the silver light of the moon. Every fleck of gold in his green eyes. Every hair that pushed through his skin on his cheeks and chin. Every freckle on his nose that could make constellations like the endless night sky. He made her crazy. Dean Winchester was made of something entirely different from anyone she’d ever met. He was made of oil, car parts, sass, and a honey so sweet it made her teeth ache. His tongue darted out of his mouth and ran over his bottom lip, so quickly, that if she hadn’t been staring at his mouth she may have missed it, but she saw it and it made her stomach flip.  
  
“Guys?” Sam said, coming up behind them. “Not to interrupt or anything but...”  
  
The two turned to look at Sam, breathing heavily. He held Pheli’s hand in one hand, and pointed out past them with the other. Ophelias hand was covering her mouth, and even in the silver glow of the moon Emerson could tell that her sister was pale. Sam’s eyes were wide, as he stared past them. Their chests were still touching as they followed his pointed finger out toward the shore, where in the distance an orange glow lit up the sky. “What the...”

The world shook. The sea collapsed over itself, sending the four young adults slamming against the railing, and barely keeping the sail boat upright. Seawater sloshed aboard, and into their shoes, across their shins. Emerson tumbled over the side of the boat in a single, fluid motion, the rail slamming into her stomach. She groaned in pain, as Dean grabbed ahold of her hand at the last possible moment. His grip was tight, even in the spray from the ocean. She hung freely over the edge, gripping at his hand, trying to pull herself back on board, as the wave rocked the boat back upright. Dean hoisted her small frame up easily, back over the rail. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, his feet planted on the deck, as if the simple force of his stance could keep them from capsizing. They turned back to the orange light, white clouds seeming to rush up from the ground.

“Is that...?” Pheli asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s a mushroom cloud.” Dean confirmed. His eyes were focused off in the distance at the explosion. The clouds of dust, or smoke, curled up like a hand toward the sky. It was gripping for God.

“Is it a bomb?” Pheli gripped Sams chest, and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“Dean, maybe we should go under?” He asked, quietly.

Deans hands still gripped Emersons wrist. Her eyes traveled from the explosion to Deans solid expression. She could see him working out a plan.  
  
“Yeah.” He said suddenly. “Let’s go under. We can try the radio, and see if anyone’s talkin. We need to get some kind of cover, because if its a terrorist attack they may strike again.”  
  
“Terrorist?” Pheli started to cry. “Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Emerson said, turning her attention to her sister. “It’s okay. We are okay. Look at me, we are okay. Dean knows what to do.”  
  
Pheli pulled her fingers up to her mouth and bit down on some loose skin around her thumb, but she nodded at her sister. She believed her. What other choice did she have?

“You three go down, I’ll get the sails back up and get us a little further out to sea.”

“Do you need help?” Emerson asked, eyeing him.

“Not safe.” He grunted. “Go down. Now.”  
  
She nodded. “Okay, but hurry. If it’s not safe for us, it isn’t safe for you either.” She took her sisters hand and let Sam lead them down below. She made her way to the radio next to the bed. Sam lowered his girlfriend to a seated position, she looked like she was losing it. Other than the tears rolling down her cheeks she seemed pretty catatonic, staring blankly forward, past Sam, at nothing.

Emerson clicked on the radio and flipped through the stations. _Click. Click. Click. Buzz._ “Nothing. Fuck.” She said to herself.

She met Sams eyes and shook her head. All of the stations were dead. The air on the other end was empty air. It was like the smoke reached up, and ripped God straight from the sky, leaving it empty, void of communication. Pheli gripped the cross around her neck and mumbled some kind of prayer. Emerson moved her eyes from Sams to her sister. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that she didn’t think anyone was listening, not anymore.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t wanna let this go. I don’t wanna lose control. I just wanna see the stars with you.” - Troye Sivan

**-5 Years Before-**

 

The night sky was starless and inky black. Emerson leaned against her window on the second story of her childhood home. She found herself, more often than not, climbing through her bedroom window and resting on the flat portion of her roof. She could see Ophelia and Sam in his window studying, and making eyes at each other. She found her eyes flickering to Deans window that sat nestled next to Sam’s. It was dark in his room, a blue black shadow inside of the pane. 

Emerson peeled her eyes away and looked forward. During the day, if she squinted far enough she could see the ocean, but at night it was all just blackness. In a world so dark, she felt so small.

“Hey, scoot over.”

Emerson almost jumped out of her skin at Deans voice below her. She glanced down, past her feet to catch a set of hands pulling themselves up onto the roof. “Christ! You scared me.” Her heart was pounding, from the startle, she assumed.

“Just saw you up here. Thought you looked lonely.” He grinned, his teeth glowing against the cool darkness. Emerson’s eyes landed on the strain of his bicep as he hoisted himself onto the roof, settling next to her.

“I’m not lonely.” She complained quietly.

“Well, Phel is at my house, so I don’t really believe that.”

“I don’t need to be with her all the time.” Emerson said curtly. 

Dean laughed at that, shaking his head in the darkness. “Yeah, okay.”

“Coming from you.” She snapped. “You and Sam are practically conjoined. You’re more codependent than we are! What would you even do if you were away from him for more than an hour?”

Dean was quiet, staring into the distance. “Guess we’ll find out.” 

She looked at him in the darkness. The subtle sweep of his nose, and the way half of his face succumbed to shadow he was still beautiful, even against the weight of the night sky pressing down on him. “What does that mean?” Her voice came out much softer than she expected.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, like he was considering whether to say out loud whatever he was thinking. “Just… don’t freak out.”

They weren’t friends. He was just the boy next door. The annoying older brother of the boy who followed her sister around. He was a gnat in her breathing space. Why would she freak out? Why would she care? “Spit it out.”

“I enlisted today.”

Her stomach dropped. 

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip anxiously, his eyes darting to hers. They looked gray. Like all the color had been sucked away. “You did what?” She asked dumbly, like she didn’t hear him. 

“I joined the army.” He said slowly, carefully.

“Why in Gods name would you do that?!” She found that her voice was rising at an alarming rate. Her pulse raced in her chest. 

“Hey! I told you not to freak out.”

“I’m not.” She halted her voice, it shook beneath her lips before she balled up her fist and hit his arm. “I’m just… are you fucking crazy?”

“No.” Dean avoiding her eyes, looking at his lap. “I’m just tired of being worthless. I want to make my Dad proud.”

“If he isn’t proud of you already, he’s an idiot.” Emerson didn’t know where the words were coming from. She’d always thought Dean was a pain in the ass, a trouble maker, because he was. He was always getting in fights and drinking too much. “You don’t have anything to prove.”

“Em,” he sighed. “I have everything to prove.”

 

**-30 Minutes After-**

 

The boat was no longer shooting forward, it was now just a subtle sway and groan of the waves, and Emerson looked up to the stairs, catching Dean jogging down them with her eye. “Anything going on up there?”

“It’s quiet.” He admitted quietly, looking at Ophelia who was asleep on Emerson’s chest. Her face was swollen from crying. “Looks like some fires on the mainland, though.” 

“What’s the plan?” Emerson whispered, her eyes moving between the Winchester brothers. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Did you get anything on the radio?” He asked, avoiding her question.

She pressed her lips together in a fine line, and gave a swift shake to her head. 

Deans jaw twitched, and he crossed the room, crouching in front of the radio. Click click click. Nothing but static. Emerson wanted to be annoyed that he didn’t trust her, but more than anything, she wanted to be wrong about that. She wanted someone else to be out there. 

She reached out, and gripped the sleeve on his shirt. Her fingers curled into the fabric. His head turned and their eyes met. There were a thousand things she wanted to say. A thousand things she couldn’t. “Please tell me you have a plan.” 

“We need to wait it out.” He said quietly, after a moment. “We have some supplies. I don’t think I’ll have an idea of what we’re in for until the morning, it’s too fucking dark out there.” 

“Okay.” Emerson said quietly. 

“Try to get some rest.” 

As if it were that easy. 

 

 **-3 Hours After-**  

 

Emerson woke with a start, her heart pounding. She didn’t know when she fell asleep, she only remembered gently rocking Pheli as she cried in her sleep. She tried to be brave, even though she was terrified, too. She squinted in the darkness to catch Sam cradling Pheli in his arms. He was asleep, with his mouth open slightly, and his face buried in her hair. They were finding comfort in each other. In the wake of her hammering heart, Emerson wished she could share in that comfort. 

She sat up slowly, alert, as she caught what woke her. The steady pitter patter of rain against the deck above her head. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the stairs, where Dean was slumped over, asleep. 

“Hey.” She whispered, touching his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

His eyes shot open in alarm, and he reached next to him, blindly, for something that wasn’t there. He blinked a few times before whispering, “Em?”

“I think it’s raining.” 

He squinted into the darkness and after a moment of quiet, he seemed to recalculate where he was in his mind and he stood up slowly. His face turned up toward the ceiling. “Let’s check it out.” 

He climbed the stairs, and opened the door to the front deck with caution. He stood in front of Emerson, blocking her way, protecting her. Instinctually she wanted to slap him away, he was an independent woman, after all. But the moment that door opened, she flinched behind him, grateful that he was there.

The smell was the first thing they noticed as the door opened. It was burning, almost chemical. It was nothing like a normal rain on the ocean that smelled fresh, like salt, and sweet Summer kisses. This was something else all together. Emerson had to cover her nose to keep the sting from almost burning away the hair inside of her nostrils. 

She peaked around Deans large form to get a better look. The rain was at a roar. Water seemed to fall from the sky like a bucket being dumped off the side of a fishing vessel to chum the water. It was thick, angry, and deep, blood red. Emerson sucked her breath in. Everything was red. It was like she was staring into a single side of an old pair of 3D glasses. It was hazy, and a pink fog seemed to rest on the top of the water. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered.

There was a sizzle to the train as it landed on the deck of the boat. A sizzle like water on a hot stove. Without thinking, Emerson stuck her hand out past Dean into the red veil.

It stung like a motherfucker.

When Emerson was eight she put her hand on the burner on the stove. Palm flat on the iron swirl. She was a curious child. It had occurred to her a dozen times before that she shouldn’t touch it, but the call was still there. The call to learn, despite the consequences. 

That moment was kind of like this one.

“Emerson, Christ!” Dean said, yanking her hand back. Her palm had three tiny blisters from where the droplets fell before he could yank her back into him, back into reality. 

“Sorry.” She exhaled.

“It’s already blistering.” He complained. 

“It was really hot, Dean. Scalding.” Her eyes met his. She wasn’t worried about the sting, or her skin boiling off her bones, or the overwhelming scent of his skin when he stood that close. “What is going on?”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t know, Em.”

 Her hand still rested in his palm, comfortably. 

He released it after a moment and clicked the door shut. Dean settled into a seated position at the top of the stairs, and Emerson sat two down from him, with her back against the wall and her legs curled into her chest so she could look up at him. She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but knowing he was there gave her some comfort, so she pressed her socked toes against his boot. 

“How’s your hand?” He asked, his voice a whisper. 

“It’s fine.” She curled her fingers into her palm and counted her heartbeat with the gentle throb from her burns. “Do you remember the night you told me that you enlisted?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why’d you tell me? You hadn’t even told Sam yet. I never understood that.”

She could hear him exhale in a hiss. “Sam was gonna be mad. He would try to talk me out of it, and I don’t know, guess I didn’t want to be talked out of it.”

“I tried to talk you out of it.” She laughed a bit. Her laughter sounded breathless and hoarse. 

“I didn’t expect it.” He admitted. “I figured you wouldn’t care.”

“I figured I wouldn’t either.”

“But you did.”

“But I did.” She pressed her head against the wall. “Life isn’t quite what we expect, is it?”

“No, it sure isn’t.” He laughed curtly, and quick, like an after thought. 

The rain wasn’t letting up, and thunder roared in the distance, like a threat, or a warning. “How did Sam react, when you told him?”

“That I was going away?”

“Yeah. I saw how he was when you left…” How they all were without the snark and big presence that was Dean Winchester. 

“I told him the day I shipped off to Basic.” Dean said, his voice far off, like he was somewhere else in his mind. “I was a coward. Part of me worried that if I told him with enough time that I wouldn’t go, but I couldn’t take it back. It was too damn late.”

“You… you said you had something to prove. That’s why you joined.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, did you? Did you prove it to your Dad? To yourself?”

He snorted. 

“What, Dean? You got something to say?”

“Just… are we ever done trying to prove shit to the people we love? I figure we die tryin.”

 _Theres something to that_ , Emerson thought. “Insightful.” She snarked. It was easier than being kind, than being open. Especially since the world was collapsing around them. Maybe it’d always been collapsing around them. 

 

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“So you’re really going?”  Emerson asked him, or maybe she was asking the night sky, the starless, empty existence. The world that could rid her of Dean Winchester for good. 

“That’s what enlisting is. I’m gonna be a mechanic, so I probably won’t see any action. Just fixin tanks and cars.” He shrugged like it wasn’t still a sacrifice. Like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Aren’t you scared?”

Dean glanced at her. He wanted to say that he’d been scared for years, but instead he chose a joke. Like he always did. “Of what? Some officer askin how tall I am? _Six foot one, Winchester? Didn’t know they piled shit that high_!”

Emerson smiled humorlessly. “Guess that’s it, then.”

“You sound disappointed.” Dean chucked. “You gonna miss me Maklen?”

“You? God no. It’s a relief, honestly.”

He leaned in close to her, he was only a breath away, his lips hovering over her pulse point on her neck. She could almost feel him smile. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sweetheart, but we both know the truth. You’ll be lost without me.”

 

****

 

“So.”

“So?” Emerson snapped, looking at her twin from her side of the room. “Say what you want to say, or go to sleep.” She grumbled.

Pheli sat up and threw her pillow at her sister on the darkness. “I saw you on the roof with Dean Winchester.”

“I’m not listening to this.”

“Come on, Em! Don’t leave me hanging, I’m your sister.” 

Emerson groaned and opened up her blanket so Ophelia could climb in. “Come here.” 

Pheli snuggled in next to her sister. they laid on their sides, nose to nose. “You were on the roof with Dean Winchester. What was that about?”

“Don’t tell Sam.” Emerson whispered.

“I can’t lie to him.”

“It’s not a lie. Chicks before dicks, come on. Sister pact.”

“Fine.” Pheli exhaled in a single puff, sending a toothpaste breath into Emerson’s nose. “What is it?”

“He enlisted. The army.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.” Emerson whispered.

“When?”

“He leaves at the end of the Summer.”

“How… how do you feel about that?” Pheli asked.

“It’s going to be weird not having him around.” 

“Sams going to be devastated.” She was quiet for a moment before she whispered. “No offense, Em, but why did he tell you?”

“I don’t know, Phel, but it was… I don’t know. He seemed different, for a second.”

“Different how?”

Emerson pressed her lips together and rolled onto her back. How could she describe it? The way he moved close to her. The way he admitted he wanted to prove himself to his father. The way he looked gentle in the moonlight. The way she was going to fucking miss him more than she could ever admit. 

“Brave. He was brave.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.” - Emily Dickinson

**-8 Hours After-**

 

The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the boat oddly quiet. It barely rocked with the movement of the sea, and if there was any commotion outside, the group didn’t hear it. Sam and Pheli were still asleep, curled together like a fist protesting god. Emerson’s head was on Deans lap, and his fingers were in her hair. He fell asleep absentmindedly stroking her blonde hair. They kept finding themselves like that, unknowingly stuck in an intimate gesture.  

Dean woke with a start. His eyes trailed down to Emerson sleeping in his lap and he smiled a little at her. She was less of a pain in the ass when she was sleeping. She almost seemed peaceful. He snorted, because he knew better. There was no peaceful bone in her body.

He turned a bit, the circle window on the door was letting the morning sunshine into the stairwell. He squinted, and considered the possibility that everything that happened the night before was a really bad dream. It wouldn’t be the first time, after he came back from Afghanistan he had constant nightmares. Sometimes he just didn’t sleep at all.

Emerson looked up at him with a sleepy expression, her eyes still heavy from the night. “You okay?”

Dean shrugged in response. “Yet to be determined. Let’s check out the deck.”

“Okay.” She sat up and stretched, her elbows popping in response. She was sore from sleeping on the stairs, but she knew that she was lucky for being able to get any sleep, no matter how terrible it was.

The two stood up and Dean slowly opened the door. The sun spilled over them, surrounding them in an almost holy light. Emerson covered her eyes to block out the bright sunlight. Maybe it was from laying in the dark cabin for so long, but the sun seemed brighter and harsher than it had the day before. The deck was covered in standing blood red water, which had yet to be evaporated by the suns blinding rays.

Dean crouched down and touched the water with his index finger. “It’s not hot anymore.” He said cautiously, before stepping out onto the deck.

Emerson followed behind him. “God, does the sun feel brighter to you?”

“Yeah, actually.” Dean squinted. “Wasn’t even this hot in Afghanistan, and fuck that’s sayin somethin.”

Emerson pressed her lips together. Dean never talked about his time in the military, not even to Sam. She turned her body toward the shore and squinted. Black plumes of smoke danced toward the sky. The world was on fire. The ocean looked like it was bleeding from the rain, everything was red as far as her eyes could see, and when they reached the shore… everything was ash and fires. The world was hazy from all of the smoke, it was like the smoke was behind her eyes, in her nose, her lungs. She gasped. It was too much. Her mother was over there, helpless. She couldn’t reach her. Emerson didn’t realize how close she was to passing out until Dean grabbed ahold of her arms. “Hey, I’ve got you.”

Her head rolled to the side, resting on Dean’s chest. “Dean.”

“There’s something in the air.” He said, confirming her thoughts. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her back into the safety of the space below deck.

“Em?” Pheli called sleepily from below deck, before a little more urgently. “Emerson?”

“We’re over here.” Dean said, as he helped the half-conscious Emerson down the stairs.

“What happened?” Ophelia sat up on her knees on the bed in alarm. Her usually perfect hair was sticking out on one side, and flattened on the side that was snuggled against Sam.

“Dean?” Sam asked, his eyes mirroring his girlfriends.

“She’s okay.” He said through clenched teeth. He laid her down. “Right, Em?” He leaned over her, pressing two fingers to the pulse point on her throat.

“I feel a lot better now that I’m inside.” She agreed weakly. “What the fuck was that?”

“There’s something in the air.” Dean said quietly.

“Why weren’t you effected?” She asked, trying to sit up.

“Hey, cool it.” He pressed a hand to her chest, urging her to lay back down. “I was effected.” He said quietly. “Just assuming it takes more for me since I’m bigger than you.” He pushed her hair behind her ear. “So just relax.”

“What do you mean there’s something in the air?” Pheli asked, moving to Emerson’s side. She took her sisters head and rested it in her lap. “Like poison?”

“Or a toxin, from the bomb.”

“So what now?” Sam asked. “We obviously can’t go outside.

“It may not matter. We are still breathing the same air.” His eyes flickered to Emerson’s.  “Last night it rained blood red, hot rain, and I’m talking Mom’s dishes water hot.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted. “I really don’t.”

Pheli grabbed Emerson’s hand. “What are we going to do?”

“I think we have to go outside.” Emerson said, sitting up. “We are sitting ducks in here.” Her throat was a little raw and she cleared it a few times.

“How? Look at you, Em! You were barely outside.” Pheli’s voice was small, and weak.

“Hey.” Emerson smiled, touching her sister’s cheek. “We will figure it out. Right Dean?” Her eyes flickered to the older brother. She wasn’t sure what moment they became partners, but it was clear that they had.

“Yeah.” He offered a weak smile. “Of course we will.” He met Sam’s eyes. His younger brother didn’t look too convinced. Dean made a mental note to reconvene with Sam once they had the girls secured. He didn’t plan on this being a permanent set up.

“Maybe we just need some kind of filter to protect us from the air?” Sam offered. “Like a gas mask?”

“That could work.” Dean admitted.

“I don’t think we have gas masks in a sail boat.” Pheli said weakly. She looked afraid, and she brought her finger to her mouth and bit on the skin around her nail.

“No.” Emerson said, looking around. “But we may have surgical masks in the first aid kit.”

“It won’t work as well, but fuck, Em. You may be a genius.” Dean grinned at her.

She shrugged in response, before hopping up to help him look for the first aid kit. “Bingo.” She said, pulling the white box out from under the bed. She opened it up and pulled out a plastic bag full of surgical masks. “What about hats? The sun was so hot. We will sunburn really quickly.”

Dean got up and opened the closet door and rifled through it before pulling out some clothes. He tossed a pair of rain jackets at the girls. “Ready to forge forward?” He grinned widely.

“May as well.” Emerson said, slipping into the jacket, and taking her sisters hand. “Don’t worry.” She murmured. “We got this.”

 

**-7 Years Before-**

 

Ophelia sat with her legs crisscrossed on the porch swing on the front porch of her house. It rocking gently back and forth as she stared intently at the book in her hands for school. Out of the two Maklen sisters, Pheli was not the most studious. It took her twice as long to finish things as it did for Emerson, her head was always in the clouds. She was reading Jane Eyre for class, and while it should be entertaining for her, being the romantic she was, all it was doing was causing her head to spin out of control. She was imagining her own Mr Rochester.

She folded the corner of her page down to mark her place when she noticed Sam Winchester slowly approaching, with his hands in his pockets. He was the short, scrawny boy who lived next door to her her whole life. He seemed really shy, and despite being her neighbor, he had barely spoken to her. “Hey.” She said, cautiously.

“Oh, uh, hi.” His face was bright red and Pheli grinned in response. Even at age fourteen she was a bit of a narcissist.

“Can I help you?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.

“I was…no.. that’s okay.” Sam turned on his heels to leave and Pheli quickly stood up.

“Do you want some lemonade? Mom made some. She has cookies too.”

“Sure.” Sam pushed his hair behind his ears. It was shaggy. He looked at her from the bottom step of her porch, his dimples popping up on his cheeks.

“Come on.” She gestured for him to step inside. “I hope you like cinnamon sugar cookies.”

“I do.” He smiled even wider. “It’s cool that your mom bakes, mine can’t cook at all.” He laughed dryly. “She buys them from the store and pretends she baked them.”

“My mom can’t cook either, but she can bake.” Pheli said handing him the plate of cookies. She went to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade. “Ice?”

“Okay.” He reached forward and took a big bite of cookie. “Holy crap, thats delicious.”

Pheli grinned proudly, and handed him the glass of lemonade. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

She leaned on the counter across from him and took a bite of her own cookie. “Emerson said I’m going to get fat if I eat too many of these.”

“Is that your sister? I’ve seen her around.”

“Yeah.” Pheli chewed, and eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve seen her around?”

“Mmhm.” He mumbled, before swallowing his bite of cookie. “Outside, around school.” He shrugged. “I have her in biology.”

“What? Are you in love with her or something?” Pheli asked suddenly, before covering her mouth with her hands. _What the hell is wrong with you?!_

“What?! No!”

She wished she could curl into herself and disappear. She’d seen Sam around, too, and his older brother. “Just making sure… because… uh… I think she likes your brother and that’d be weird.” Pheli said. It came out like word vomit, she didn’t mean to say it, and her sister would kill her if she found out. They’d never talked much about the boys next door, let alone liked either of them. So why was Pheli being so dramatic? Why was her stomach flipping now that she was in the same room as the younger Winchester?

“She does?” Sam asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Yeah. He’s all mysterious. She eats that stuff up.”

“Huh.”

“But don’t tell him! She will be so mad at me!”

“Right, I won’t.” Sam promised. He reached for another cookie, but the plate was empty. They’d eaten the entire thing while they were talking. “Wow, I see what you mean. These things are addicting.” He grabbed a crumb off the plate and stuck it to his tongue.

“That’s an understatement.” Pheli laughed nervously, biting at her cuticle.

“You were reading when I walked up. What book was it?”

“Jane Eyre. It’s for class.” Pheli took a sip of her lemonade. It was a little too sour, and her nose wrinkled in response. “Why did you walk up?”

“I…” Sams cheeks turned even more red. “I’ve been trying to get the nerve to talk to you for awhile.”

“Really?” She squeaked.

“Yeah.” He laughed, taking a sip of his own lemonade just to have something to do with his hands. “Wow, that’s really sour!”

Ophelia busted into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth. “Yeah, it is really bad!”

Sam laughed in response. Every time they would slow down they’d meet eyes and roll into another fit, until they were both holding their stomachs and begging the other to stop.

“Told you she was terrible at everything other than baked goods.” Pheli said breathlessly.

“You weren’t wrong.” Sam agreed, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

She grabbed both glasses and dumped them down the sink. “Why… why were you afraid to talk to me?”

“You’re intimidating, Ophelia.”

“You can call me Pheli.”

“Okay.” Sam said, softly. His eyes were glued to his lap.

“I’m not.”

“Not what?” His eyes flickered up to hers.

“Intimidating.”

He laughed lightly. “Yeah, you are.”

“You can talk to me any time you want, Sam.”

“It isn’t just talking… I actually had something to ask you.” He let out a breath.

“Okay. What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably stupid, forget it.”

“Just ask, sam.”

“I… ugh, fine okay.” He looked like he was going to pass out before he quietly mumbled, “Will you go to homecoming with me?”

A grin grew on Opehlia’s face. It almost hurt to smile that widely, but when he met her deep brown eyes he saw the night sky in them. They sparkled like they were full of stars. “Yes! You cute little idiot. I’d love to!”

 

****

 

“Was that Sam Winchester in our house earlier?”

“You saw that?” Pheli asked, from her bed. She had her book light on, trying to catch up on her reading before her due date the next day, but in reality she was day dreaming out homecoming.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “I was coming downstairs for a drink, and I figured I should leave you two alone.” She shrugged, rolling over onto her side on the bed so she could get a better look at her sister in the darkness.

“He asked me to homecoming.”

“What?” Emerson sat up. “Really? Have you ever even talked to him before?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not really… but he’s cute, Em. Really cute.”

“I guess.” Emerson laughed quietly and rolled her eyes.

“What if he is my Mr Rochester?”

“That book is kind of dysfunctional, Phel.”

“I think it’s romantic.” She cooed in response. “He could be my Romeo. We could be soulmates.”

“Phel, they both died. That’s not really romantic… it’s tragic.”

Ophelia shrugged in response. “He has a brother, you know. It’s always been my dream for us to marry brothers. We could have a double wedding!” She sat up with a wide grin. “You have to take Dean Winchester to homecoming.”

“I would rather eat Mom’s pot roast than take Dean Winchester to homecoming.” Emerson said flatly. “He wears too much Axe, and I’m pretty sure he smokes. No way.” She flipped over to face the wall to go to sleep. “I will never like Dean Winchester, so you may as well let go of that dream now, Phel, before you get too disappointed.”

 

**-8 Hours After-**

 

The group looked ridiculous in their boat hats, rain jackets, and surgical masks. Dean went up on deck with Sam to sail back to the mainland, leaving the Maklen sisters below deck.

“I can’t believe this.” Pheli said, plopping on the bed, with her face in her hands.

“We will figure it out. We have each other, that’s all we’ve ever needed.” Emerson said, resting her hand on her sisters shoulder.

“I need a distraction, or I’m going to start crying.” She sucked in her breath before her eyes flickered to her sisters. A perfect reflection of herself. “What was going on with you two on deck last night? Before everything happened. It looked intense.”

“It… it was a little intense.” Emerson admitted, leaning against the wall. “He is a little intense.”

“What were you talking about?” Pheli asked, quietly, glancing at her sister.

Emerson looked far off, as if she could see through the walls of their tiny cabin. “The sky.”

“The sky?”

“Yeah.” She glanced down at the tiny blisters on her palm, before curling it back into itself. She wasn’t much of a talker. She wasn’t a romantic, like her sister. She didn’t watch the stars, or find shapes in the clouds. She didn’t dream about a boy who would sweep her off her feet and change everything. She didn’t believe anyone had that power, and if anyone could, it was God, and he’d obviously left the building.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I manage a smile the first time I see him, and it feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told. So I hold my breath cause I’m thinking any minute now he’s gonna call me on it.” - Shane Koyczan

**-9 Hours After-**

 

The Earth was quiet. It was almost eerie, alien. The Winchester brothers stepped off the boat first on to the dock. They wanted to test it to make sure it was sound, so the girl’s wouldn’t fall into the ocean. Pieces were broken from when the earth shook. The dock splintered, as if it’d been hit by an angry fist. Sam lifted Pheli off the boat, effortlessly, pulling her against his chest. “You look cute.” He whispered to her through his surgical mask. She hit his chest playfully in response.

Dean offered a rubber gloved hand to Emerson. She could see the crinkles around his eyes from where he was grinning widely under his mask, but there was something else. His pupils were dilated and his eyebrows seemed locked in position. He was afraid.

Emerson rested her gloved hand in Deans and let him pull her up onto the dock. “Where are we going?” She asked him quietly.

“I have some supplies at the house, then I thought we could check the hospital and see about your mom.”

Pheli turned at that and met Emerson’s eyes. Their mother. They were going to let her go. It was already decided. What was the likelihood that she was still alive strapped to the machine that was breathing for her? What was the likelihood that anyone survived? In the wake of the explosion, would it even be safe to travel downtown to find out?

Dean squeezed Emersons hand. She hadn’t noticed that she was gripping his fingers for dear life. She didn’t want to need his support, but he was strong, and his hand was warm within hers. “Come on.” He said. “Let’s get to the car, it’s not safe to be out here even with the precautions.”

She pulled her hand from his and adjusted her hat, even though her skin was still covered. She could feel the heat from the sun baking down on them, and her skin was starting to sweat under the rain jacket.

“I feel like a baked potato.” Pheli complained as Sam zipped her jacked up to her chin.

“Better safe than sorry.” He said, poking her nose through the mask.

Ophelia was meant for drama, and Emerson had always thought that. Growing up, Pheli was always dressing up, and doing performances for the family. She would sit her sister and their mother down and do a dramatic reenactment, or a song and dance. The older she got, the more drama was involved in their regular life. She would cry over boys, and romanticize the smallest moments.

She wasn’t being dramatic then, though. Emerson felt that the baked potato metaphor was unsettlingly fitting. The ground seemed to be steaming; most of the red rain was gone from the ground, evaporated into blood red clouds that floated threateningly above them.

“Thank God.” Dean whispered as the four reached the car. “My baby is okay.” He ran his fingers along the car with a relieved smile.

Emerson rolled her eyes as he unlocked the car. Her vision was fuzzy along the edges. “Dean I’m not sure these masks are working.” She exhaled slowly, eyeing Pheli as Sam helped her into the car. “You feeling okay?”

“A little woozy.” She admitted.

“Me, too.”

“Alright, lets book it.” Dean said quickly, sliding into the driver’s seat.

The sisters laced their fingers together in the backseat. Emerson rubbed small circles on the back of Pheli’s hand. Their eyes flickered out the window as they watched the town they grew up in fly by in a blur of color. “Oh my god.” Pheli whispered, her hand going to her mouth.

Everything looked like it’d been picked up and shook. Buildings had collapsed, some still on fire. The flames licked up toward to the sky. Cars had crashed into each other, causing Dean to slow the Impala for fear of a collision. Bodies were lying in the street. “Christ.” Dean whispered. His back was tense under his flannel. Emerson wanted to reach out and touch him, but she refrained. It wasn’t their way, after all. “Fuck.” He stopped the car.

“What?”  Emerson asked, scooting into the middle seat so she could get a view of the street. There was a large light pole that had fallen in the road. There was no way around. “Shit.”

“ _Fuck_!” Dean shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. “We are going to have to walk.” There was oil in the street from the car wrecks. Fire. It was dangerous to stay, but they had no idea if they would survive the walk back to the houses. The girls were already feeling a light headed from the toxin in the air, and they’d barely been outside.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Sam promised, his hand on Pheli’s thigh. He was reaching around from the front seat.

She nodded. She believed him. She didn’t have any other choice.

“Dean, the gas…”

“I know.” He said sharply before letting out a sigh. “I have supplies at the house. All Dad’s old military shit. I think he may have some masks. We just have to get there.” He turned, meeting Emerson’s eyes. “We will have to hustle.” He turned to Phel. “Can you do that?”

Both girls nodded. They knew the only answer was yes. They had to move, or they would die, and the latter wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be.

**-7 Years Before-**

“What in God’s name are you doing here?”

Dean leaned against the doorway wearing a black button up lazily tucked into a pair of slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a cigarette was in between his teeth. He held a single rose in his fingers. “Homecoming, Em.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Emerson stared at him blankly. _Fucking Ophelia! I’m going to kill her._

“Shit, put your murder eyes away.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“You’re too old for high school homecoming.”

“Probably right, but Sammy needs a wingman.” He offered her the rose with his best smile.

All it did was piss her off. She reached up and pulled the cigarette from his lips and broke it. “I’m not going anywhere with you if you have cigarette mouth. It’s disgusting.”

“Why do you care what my mouth tastes like?” He taunted with a smirk, clearly loving getting a reaction out of her.

“I _don’t_ care.” She snapped before turning to walk back inside.

“So, you gonna change?”

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to him. She was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. She was so distracted by him showing up that she didn’t even realize. “No. I’m not going to homecoming.”

“Yes you are!” Pheli said from the top of the stairs.

“Oh I don’t want to hear it from you!” Emerson snapped at her sister who quickly disappeared back into her bedroom.  She turned on her heels and her chest brushed against Dean’s.  

“I don’t want to go either, by the way.” He said quietly.

“Cool.” She said. She didn’t back away from him. “So why are you trying to go?”

He shrugged. “I put on a shirt.”

“Right.” Emerson snorted.

“Just come with me, Em.”

“Why should I, Dean?”

“Because you want to.” He said sheepishly with a mischievous grin.

“I don’t.”

“You’re a liar.” He grinned widely. “Fine. Come because it’ll be fun. We can watch Sammy and Ophelia be all squirmy and awkward. It’ll be great.”

Emerson opened her mouth to argue more, but she pressed it shut. She knew she should go to be there for her sister. It was her first date with Sam. Her eyes met Deans green ones. He was grinning. He already knew he won. “Fine, but this isn’t a date. We are going for our siblings.”

“Yup. Totally.” He chucked low. “I don’t date anyway, Em.” He shrugged.

“Right.”

 

****

 

Dean was surprised by how nice Emerson cleaned up. She took a step on the top of the stairs and Ophelia cleared her throat, maybe to signal Sam to look at her, or perhaps to signal Dean to look at her sister.

He wasn’t blind, he knew Emerson was beautiful. Both Maklen sisters were often the talk of the school, and even though he was long graduated, he wouldn’t forget the look of the other seniors when the two blonde twins walked into the school on the first day of their freshman year. They were beautiful and typically attached at the hip. Sam had begged him to take Emerson to the dance.

_“Please, Dean. You owe me!”_

_“For what, pray tell?”_

_“Two words: pink panties.”_

_“Alright, you got it. I’ll take the cranky sister to the dance.” Truth be told, he would’ve taken her anyway. She was hot and mysterious, but more than anything Sam asked him. He couldn’t say no to his brother._

_“Thank you.” Sam exhaled._

_“You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”_

_“Am I that transparent?”_

_“Yes.” Dean laughed. “You actually are.” He grabbed his brother and ruffled his hair. “Little Sammy! Don’t forget to pack condoms.”_

_“What? No way!” His face was bright red and hot._

_Dean laughed and let him go. “Go in with confidence, my man. It makes a world of difference.”_

_Sam ran his fingers through his hair to fix it. “Is that what you’re going to do with Emerson?”_

_The older brother shrugged and flipped his lighter in his hands. “It won’t be like that.”_

_“Why not? If it works with all the other girls.”_

_“Well first of all, she’s sixteen.” He said, flicking Sam’s forehead. “Second of all, I don’t know. She’s not like other girls.” He shrugged noncommittally._

Her hair had a subtle wave to it as it spilled down her shoulders. Her dress was simple, maroon, and strapless, showing off her smooth collarbones and flawless shoulders. It hit her mid-thigh, and for once she wore combat boots. His eyes landed on her full lips, which were painted a nude color. More than anything, though, she looked fucking annoyed.

“You look amazing.” Sam gushed at Pheli. She was wearing a pink dress that hugged her curves. It had a shimmer to it, and the straps crisscrossed across her chest. She wore a pair of silver heels that caught the light. She put a lot of work into her appearance, and Sam noticed.

“Thank you.” She blushed, red creeping up her neck. “You look handsome too.” She took his hand, and he offered her a corsage. “Wow! It’s stunning. Did you pick it out yourself?”

Dean turned to Emerson and grinned. “Wow, you clean up nice.”

“I know.” She forced a wicked grin.

“You look nice, too, Dean.” He said in a girly voice. “Wow, thanks Em. You’re a peach.”

“Was that supposed to be me?” She laughed.

“I think it was a spot on interpretation.”

“I guess.” She rolled her eyes, but took his arm when he offered it. “Okay love birds, let’s get this thing over with.”

The dance was impressive, but no one should’ve been surprised. Pheli was on the planning committee. The gymnasium at the high school was transformed by twinkle lights, and clear balloons covering the floor. Everything was low light and sparkling. It felt like they were inside of a glittering snow globe just waiting to be shaken.

“You out did yourself, kiddo.” Dean glanced at Ophelia. She smiled widely, knowing that any compliment given from him was one to cherish.

“Sam let’s go get our picture taken!” She squealed, pulling his hand. The couple disappeared into the crowd to go get a professional photograph taken.

“She’s intense.” Dean commented.

“That’s an understatement.”

He glanced at her. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“What? Like punch?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Emerson raised an eyebrow. He put a hand on her lower back to lead her through the crowd.

He got them both a glass of punch and to her surprise he didn’t pull out a flask. They walked away from the table and took a seat. She took the glass from him and eagerly and took a sip. She made a face. “This is so watered down.” She laughed.

“Yeah, I never liked dances.” He agreed with a laugh. “They always felt lame and forced.”

“Pheli loves them, and I love watching her love them. Ya know? Even if I hate them.”

“Don’t teenage girls usually love dances?”

“That’s a stereotype.” Emerson raised an eyebrow.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, guess it is.”

Emerson picked at her nails uncomfortably, and Dean couldn’t stop staring at her. The way her blonde waves fell in her face. The focus of the deep brown of her eyes. The way her bottom lip moved as she let out her breath. He pleaned in. “Okay, one time offer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Want to dance?”

She almost spit her drink. Was Dean Winchester seriously asking her to dance? “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Going once… going twice…”

“Fuck you.” She went to fold her arms across her chest in protest, but instead he grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

She was so surprised that she was easily pulled on to the dance floor. He spun her around effortlessly, her hair whipping around her. The song was faced paced, and she was surprised by his dance moves. He wasn’t grinding against her leg, he was actually dancing. His hand was pressed to her lower back and he lead her around the dance floor. “How did you learn this?” She asked, breathlessly as he pulled her against him.

“Mom.” He said with a shrug. “She loved to dance, and Dad had two left feet.”

“You’re actually pretty good.” She laughed as he spun her out and back in again.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Maybe I’m not what you think I am.” He asked as he pulled her a little closer, his eyes meeting hers intensely.

Maybe he wasn’t. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that the guy next door could be more than he appeared. The song changed to a slower one and she started to pull away, but his grip tightened on her. “Just a little longer.” He murmured, and she wasn’t really sure if she was intended to hear it, not really, so she didn’t comment on it.

They swayed slowly together to the rhythm of the music. She let her body relax against him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “This doesn’t last forever.” He commented quietly.

The song? She knew that, but somehow she didn’t think that was what he meant. “What doesn’t?”

“High school.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “I know.”

“It sucked for me, too.” He laughed breathlessly. “But it really is just a blink and it’s over.”

She knew that, but there was comfort in hearing it from someone who lived through it. From someone who wasn’t like Pheli, who often cried at the thought of high school ending.

“Not everyone is Sam and Ophelia.” Dean commented, as if he could read her mind.

“That’s the truth.” She pulled away to look at him. “Why aren’t you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… real?”

He shrugged. “When people think you’re one thing, sometimes it’s just easier to live up to it. I’d always rather be underestimated. Then you can surprise them, and you never let anyone down.”

Emerson pressed her lips together. Part of her wanted to kiss him, but then she remembered that she didn’t kiss guys like Dean Winchester. She didn’t kiss guys period. She was thinking, again, despite what she was witnessing, that he was one thing. That he was bad, but people are more complicated than that. More than anyone she should know that. “Want to get some air?” She asked him instead.

“Sure.” He shrugged, dropping her hand to walk outside.

She somehow felt empty, without having him touching her. They pushed out into the cool Autumn night. His back was pressed against the brick of the school as he pulled out a cigarette. He held it between his lips and lit it, inhaling the smoke. His eyes fluttered closed, his face relaxing.

“Why do you do that?”

He shrugged, opening a single eye to look at her. “Part of me has always known I’m going to die young. May as well help it along. Should smoke two at once.” He laughed, letting out a gray breath.

She eyed the cigarette, glowing orange in the night air. “That’s tragic, Dean. You know that, right? Life isn’t about dying. It isn’t about getting to the finish line.”

He turned his body to look at her, his expression serious. “Of course it is, Em.”

They weren’t like Sam and Ophelia. Wrapped up in bliss and possibilities. Flowers and butterfly kisses. Emerson and Dean were snark, longing looks, and inhaled smoke despite the fact that it fucking hurt. They stood in the dark behind the school, listening to the muffled pulse of music through the wall into the gymnasium. There were people that went to dances and fell in love under the twinkling lights, and then there was Dean Winchester. He wasn’t the guy to fall in love with. He was dangerous. He had bad habits and little to no respect for himself. But he also danced with his mom and looked out for his little brother, and the way he looked at Emerson through the smoke in the darkness made her question everything she knew. Maybe that’s what relationships were all about. Questions and answers.

Emerson grabbed the cigarette from him and stepped an inch away from him. “I refuse to believe that you are living just to die. What is the point? If you don’t have something to live for, Dean, it’s time to find one. You think you’re worthless, but the only thing making you worthless is you.”

His eyes flickered to the cigarette with his mouth opened. Her words hit him like a bullet to the chest. He half expected her to stomp out the burning embers, but instead she brought it to her lips and took a deep breath in, sucking the smoke into her lungs, her eyes never leaving his.

 

**-9 Hours After-**

 

They were running, dodging flames, cars, fallen trees, dead bodies… Emerson bent over in a coughing fit. Even through the surgical mask the air was too much. The toxin and the smell of burning flesh had almost completely blinded her. Everything was fuzzy. She had only been pulled forward by Ophelia, who was being almost drug by Sam. They jumped over a fallen woman, and Emerson released Pheli’s hand. She doubled over, coughing into her mask.

It was worse than that first cigarette. She coughed so much she almost threw up. It had lessened the impact of her statement to Dean, turns out Ophelia wasn’t the only Maklen girl who had a flare for the dramatic.

“Em!” Ophelia turned back when she felt her sister release her grasp. “Dean!”

He turned and muttered a curse under his breath. He turned on his heels and ran to Emerson, effortlessly scooping her up. His arm went under the bend of her legs and behind her back. “I got you.” He told her, holding her against his chest. “Keep going! I’ve got her!” He yelled to his brother and Pheli.  

Emerson looked up at Dean weakly. She was coughing more, her throat burning. She tasted pennies in her mouth. “Dean.” She whispered between coughs. Her lips were wet under the mask.

“You’ve got it. Just hold on a little longer, Em. We are almost there. We don’t live just to die, remember?” He asked quietly, wiping a tear from her eye. “So you aren’t dying today. I won’t fucking lose you. Not now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You never realize how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have.” - Bob Marley

**-9 Hours After-**

The sound of boots on asphalt was all Emerson could hear. She felt Deans arms tighten around her, as her fingers loosened on his shirt. “Stay with me, Em!” Dean said down to her as he held her tighter.

There was something about the fight, the pressure that motivated Dean Winchester more than anything else in the world. Someone to save. The fight was even stronger after he joined the military. Suddenly there was a real life pressure to live and to fight, but holding Emerson in his arms, running, was different than that. Somehow it was bigger. He saw his street in front of him just as she went limp in his arms. “Sammy go get the door!” He shouted, tossing the keys to his brother. The younger Winchester caught them easily and pushed toward the door, Pheli on his heels.

Sam was able to easily open the door and get inside just as Dean stepped on to the porch. He shut the door behind him. “Get to the basement.” He instructed the couple.

Dean made it down the stairs to his bedroom and laid Emerson down on the bed carefully. He leaned his head down to listen to her breathing. It was shallow and labored. “Shit.” He whispered.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Ophelia asked from the door way.

“It’s uh…”  _This is my fault_ . He thought desperately. “Her breathing isn’t good. I think her oxygen level is low.”

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked desperately, his hand on Pheli’s back. 

 

The blonde stood up a little straighter. “Dean we have all of Mom’s medical stuff at the house. We have a lot of oxygen tanks and IV’s. We hadn’t returned them yet. Do you think if I got it it’d help Em?”

Dean grinned widely. “You’re a genius Maklen.”

“I’m dating your brother, Dean. You don’t need to try to seduce me with compliments.” She flipped her hair, but he could see behind her dark eyes that she was terrified. “Sam and I will make a run. Stay with her. Protect her. Okay?”

“I promise.” He said with a nod.

Ophelia adjusted her face mask and left the room, Sam following her. 

 

Dean lowered himself to sit on the bed next to Emerson. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed, but he knew they looked like chocolate, and in the sun the glowed golden. “You asked me why I told you that I was enlisting. I lied.” He said quietly, pushing her hair out of her face. He slowly removed her mask, to see blood trickling down her mouth.

His parents were paranoid, specifically his Dad. After John got back from the Marines he opted for the expensive air filter system for their home, and for an impenetrable basement level on their home that was stocked with canned food a backup generator in case of emergency. In case of exactly what was happening.

He took off his gloves, already feeling better now that he was in the air filtered house. He checked Emerson’s pulse, pressing two fingers to her throat. Weak, but it was there. “I wanted to tell you, because I wanted you to be proud of me. Didn’t really want to be the same old fuck up I’d always been. What I knew you thought I was. Don’t really know why I cared what the kid next door thought.” He laughed humorlessly. “Maybe that’s a lie, too.”

**-5 Years Before-**

Dean threw his duffle bag over his shoulder. He thought about leaving in the middle of the night. Maybe it’d be easier to just disappear into the darkness. He saw the way Emerson reacted to him leaving, surely Sam would feel the same way. If not worse. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t what he wanted, not really. Suddenly he had the urge for a cigarette.

He sat down the bag and dug the carton out of his pocket along with his lighter. He unlocked his window and slid out of it to have one last smoke before everything blew up. His window ledge wasn’t like Emerson’s. It wasn’t flat or easy to sit on, but it did hang fairly close to her window. A tree was the only thing separating the two roofs.

He leaned against the wall, putting the cigarette in between his lips. Two flicks from his zippo and he sucked the smoke into his mouth. He closed his eyes and thought about the weight of the dog tags around his father’s neck. He thought about Sam begging him to take Emerson to homecoming. He thought about how his little town would be so much better without him.

_“You disgust me, boy.” His father said, his fist connecting with his chin._

_Pain shot through Dean’s face as he stumbled back, grabbing for anything to stop himself from falling. He failed. He looked up at his father towering over him. “I… I’m sorry.”_

_“Bet you are. Only sorry that you got caught.”_

There were many different kinds of monsters in the world. At that point, Dean just preferred the ones that he knew would be shooting at him. He didn’t like surprises, and the first time his father hit him was a fucking surprise.

After the first time it was a dodging act over and over again. What would set John off, and how could Dean keep himself as the focus. John never went after Sam or their Mom. After a while Dean wondered if it would be better if he disappeared.

_“You don’t steal from me, boy.” His steel toe boot connected with Dean’s temple. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.” John hissed, looking down at his oldest son._

_Dean looked at him through the blood that trailed into his eye. “I don’t know what kind of question that is.” He said, deciding to be brave. To be something he wouldn’t be ashamed of in the morning. “Who are you? Someone who kicks the shit out of their own kid?” Dean couldn’t help the tears stinging his eyes._

_“You’re no kid of mine.” John spit down at him, and Dean could smell the alcohol in the saliva dripping down his cheek._

_There was money missing from John’s wallet and he blamed Dean, of course he did. There was no one else to blame, and even though Dean didn’t steal the money, he would take the beating. He wouldn’t let anyone else get the blunt force of John’s boot._

He opened his eyes as he heard a creak across from him. Emerson climbed out of her own window and settled on the roof, just like he was. He smiled at her in the darkness, letting out a breath of smoke.

 

She was bathed in darkness, but part of her face was illuminated from the moon. She wore a pair of pajama pants and a tank top, her hair was braided to the side. Dean wondered what she was doing out there. She hadn’t noticed him, and he considered the possibility that he could still disappear without saying goodbye. He considered it, but he knew he didn’t have the strength. He sucked in another breath of smoke.

 

“Fancy meeting you here.” He said with an exhale. 

 

“Jesus Christ Winchester! You scared the shit out of me!” He could see the whites of her eyes in the darkness.

 

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “God you’re so fucking easy.” 

 

“Screw you.” 

 

“Aw, if you insist.” 

 

She narrowed her eyes at him from across the empty space between them. “Why are you lurking up on the roof?”

 

“Could ask you the same thing.” He shrugged. 

 

“I just... I needed some air.” She admitted, leaning her head against the back wall again. 

 

“Me too.” He held up his cigarette. 

 

“Still a nasty habit.” She said, eyeing him.

 

“I know.” He took one last puff before extinguishing it. “Want some company?”

 

Emerson pulled her knees to her chest. “No.” 

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Yeah, okay.” 

 

She rolled her eyes and scooted over, signaling for him to join her. He nodded and stood up, grabbing ahold of a branch so he could hop to her roof. “I hate when you do that.” She complained. 

 

“Whatever.” He laughed, sitting next to her. 

 

They sat in silence for several minutes, just looking at the moon. “You leave tomorrow.” 

 

“Tonight, actually.” 

 

“What?”

 

“Tryin to disappear in the night before anyone can miss me.” He wiggled his eyebrows to show it was a joke, even though Emerson knew better. 

 

“Dean you need to say goodbye.” 

 

“Don’t want to see Sammy cry.” 

 

“I know.” She bumped him a bit.

 

“What about you? You gonna tell Phel you got accepted to that fancy university in Scotland?”

 

“How did you know about that?” She turned to him alarmed. 

 

“Figured that’s why you were up here.” 

 

She’d told him about it after she applied. Last time he’d come up on her roof. “I’m not going.” 

 

“Why not? You should.” 

 

“Phel needs me. I’d miss her.” 

 

“She doesn’t need you, Em. You need you.” He poked her nose. “You gotta do whats good for you.” 

 

“Rich coming from you.” 

 

“Yeah, well I’m damaged goods, don’t take me as an example.” 

 

“Mhm.” She turned away from him, staring out at the ocean in the darkness. “I want to go. I want to get out of this town and never fucking see it again.”

 

“What’s stopping you? I’m leaving.” 

 

“You’re not a factor.” She said smoothly.

 

“Didn’t say I was. You projecting Maklen?”

 

“What? No.” 

 

“Guess we’re both liars.” He chuckled to himself.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” She turned all the way so she was looking at him. 

 

“You won’t tell Phel, and I still haven’t told Sammy I’m leaving. We both have some real fucked up ideas of what our siblings need. You realize that, right?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“But we aren’t going to change, because we’re the same.” He turned away from her, propping his arms on his knees. 

 

“You’re probably right about that.” She said, sadly. 

 

Ever since Sam had gotten with her sister, Dean Winchester was going out of his way to be the most annoying human being to Emerson. Moments like that one made it worth it, though. He would surprise her, and swing up to her roof. In between puffs of smoke he would say things that’d make her heart flutter. He challenged her in the best and worst ways. She wouldn’t let herself feel anything, though, because she still believed in her heart that he would hurt her. 

 

“Part of me thinks I’m gonna die out there.” 

 

“I thought you were going to be a mechanic?”

 

“I am, but I don’t know. I’ve got a gut feeling.” 

 

“Well can you do me a favor, and I don’t know, not die?” Emerson asked, almost looking annoyed. 

 

“Aw, Em, your heart is showing.” He reached forward and poked her chest, right above her heart, before realizing that he was touching her boob. His face immediately flushed and he pulled his hand away. 

 

“It is not.” She huffed, batting him away. “I don’t  care  okay?”

 

“Doesn’t look like it.” He mumbled before sighing. “Not surprised, though, other than Sammy I think I could just leave and no one would notice.” 

 

“Dean quit with the pity party shit, okay?” She took his face in her hands. “I’m only going to say this once, okay? And don’t you ever fucking mention it again, or I swear I will shove you off this roof. Got it?”

 

“Uh, got it.” He said, his heart pounding. He could feel her breath on his lips because she was so close. 

 

Emerson let out a quick breath. “I know what it feels like to be the one overlooked. I’m twins with Pheli for Christ sakes. That doesn’t mean you aren’t worth it, Dean. You want me to fucking say it, don’t you? I’d miss you. You’re so annoying, you have a shitty smoking habit, and you’re the biggest smart ass I know. But you fight for your brother, and you listen. I’m not here to be your cheerleader or 6your mom. It’s time that you start learning your own worth, Dean. No one can change your mind but you.” She said softly, her eyes flickered to his. “You see me, Dean, and I see you.”

 

**-9 Hours After-**

 

Pheli and Sam entered the basement with two duffle bags each of medical supplies, in addition to some items that Pheli thought the girls may need. They weren’t gone more than ten minutes. “How is she?”

 

“Stable.” Dean grunted, moving his hand off hers. “You got the oxygen?”

 

She nodded and pulled the can out of her bag along with a face mask. Dean rested the mask over her face and turned on the oxygen, holding it there. Pheli moved around to the other side of the bed. She held her sisters hand after removing her face mask. 

 

“You take some, too, Phel.” Dean said, handing her another mask. 

 

She nodded and pressed it to her lips, her eyes never leaving Emerson. “Come on, Em. This is not how our story ends.” She said quietly. Sam pressed his palm to Deans shoulder. All three sets of eyes were on Emerson. “We are supposed to die together, remember? Into the world together and out together. You’re not dying today, Em. I won’t allow it.” 

 

“She’s going to be okay.” Dean said, he had to believe it.

 

“Dean can we talk?” Sam asked, eyeing his brother.

 

“What? Yeah, okay.” He stood up and followed Sam out to the basement living room. 

 

“What’s going on out there, Dean?”

 

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his face. 

 

“Do you have a plan?”

 

“Honestly? No. It was about getting here... and now that we’re here I don’t know. I guess we could wait it out. Wait for the inevitable government clean up.”

 

“Are you sure that’ll happen?”

 

“No. I’m not sure of anything.” He admitted. “All I know is that somethingreally fucking bad is going down, Sam. Our only options are to hide or fight.”

 

“Which are we gonna do?”

 

He turned his face to look at the door where the girls were. “Doesn’t feel like we have much of a choice.”

 

“Dean!” Pheli said calling from the bedroom. 

 

He rushed past Sam back into the bedroom, expecting the worst. He pushed through the door and stopped in his tracks. She was propped up slightly with her eyes open. The oxygen mask was still over her face. She pulled it down to reveal a big, weak smile. “Somebody looks happy to see me.” She said breathlessly.

 

“Put that back on.” Pheli instructed, her voice sharp with annoyance.

 

Emerson rolled her eyes and placed the mask back, her eyes never leaving Deans.

 

They had no choice. It wasn’t just Dean and Sam anymore. The Maklen sister were theirs to protect, and Emerson was right. He was so fucking happy to see her. He planted his feet on the ground to resist the urge to go to her, because he knew he shouldn’t. He knew she would be better off. She had to be. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I do not need someone to complete me. But if you wanted to, we could walk next to each other into whatever is coming next.” -Meghan Lynn

**-1 Week After-**

 

Emerson sat in the shower. Her knees were pressed to her chest as she let the warm water run over her. Her hair was matted to her head and her forehead rested on her knees. They’d been in the Winchester’s basement for a week, with no sign of life anywhere. No one had come knocking. The phones were all dead. No radio signal. They were on a backup generator at the house. Emerson slept every night on the couch, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally caught up to her.

When it did, all she had was nightmares.

Pheli would reach up from her pallet on the floor and grip her sister’s hand. They slept close together like the always had, but this time Sam’s large body curled around protectively around Pheli as she slept. Most of the time she woke up bright and shiny as ever, which was probably the only reason Emerson hadn’t had a complete breakdown yet. How could she when her sister was singing show tunes?

Emerson turned her face into the stream of water, letting it wash over her. It rained every day since the explosion. Red and hot like the first time. Sometimes she would lie on the couch and listen to the rain, and pretend it was a summer night. She pretended it was the time before.

She reached forward and turned off the water. The immediate chill from the house covered her damp skin, causing her hair to stand on end. She let herself rise on shaky legs, and towel off. She twisted her blonde hair up in the towel and stepped into Dean’s robe, closing it around herself. She took a deep breath of the scent. It smelled like this body wash. It was so much harder to ignore him when they were living under the same roof, but she was trying. Especially now that their immediate sense of danger was muted.

She wiped away the fog on the mirror, and was assaulted with her own reflection. A set of dark, tired eyes. She leaned forward and let the heat of her breath steam up the mirror again. It was just another place to hide. It was just another mask.

She went out into the living room to get her clothes. She pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “Is that mine?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall. He gestured to the AC/DC shirt that was curled in her fingers that was indeed his.

“Guess so.” She said, tossing it up to him. “This place is a pig sty. No wonder some of our stuff is getting mixed.”  

“Keep it.” He tossed it back to her gently.

She caught it in one hand and unconsciously pulled it to her chest. “Fine, but only because I don’t hardly have any clothes here.”

“Mhm.”

“Where’s Phel and Sam?”

“Probably getting busy.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Gross.”

“Eh, carpe diem and all that.” He eyed her robe suggestively.

“Turn around, Winchester. You don’t get a free show.” She spun her finger and he complied. She untied the robe, lowering it to the floor. She watched his back tense as the sound of fabric landing hit his ears. If he turned toward her he would see everything, and it was a little paralyzing. She stepped into her shorts and slid his t-shirt over her bare skin, cutting the tension between them. “You’re good.” She whispered.

Dean turned back around cautiously, almost as if he expected to find her still standing there before him completely naked. He swallowed hard as he saw her. She removed the towel from her hair and ran her fingers through it.

“Dean.” She murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

“Yeah?”

“How long is this generator going to last?” The thought had been plaguing her mind every second since she woke up in his bed conscious again. How long did they have? The storms still raged outside, she could hear the angry booms of thunder and the insistent pattering of rain against the roof.

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“What about your parents? What about our mom?” She knew she couldn’t ask Pheli’s opinion. She couldn’t take away her positive attitude, and if Sam and Dean were talking about it, they weren’t doing it in front of the girls.

“I don’t have the answers, Em. I’m sorry.” He said weakly. His chest ached. He wanted the answers. He was supposed to have them. He was the fucking soldier, after all. If he didn’t have them then who did? He sold a chunk of his life to a government that was going to let them boil alive under a blood red rain. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something, but instead he just let his blunt nails dig into his palm as he curled his fingers in on themselves. He tightened his fist as much as he could.

Emerson stepped toward him, and took his fist in her fingers. _So much for avoiding him._ “Don’t be sorry.” She whispered. “Hey, look at me.”

His eyes flickered up to hers.

“You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“Of course I do.”

 

**-6 Years Before-**

 

“Alright, the game is Bullshit.” Dean said, shuffling the cards. His cigarette hung out of his lips.

“I bet you’re great at that.” Emerson said smoothly.

They were laying in the backyard in the grass. Pheli’s head was on Sam’s lap, her toes in the grass.

“How do you play?” Pheli turned to look at Dean. Sam was placing dandelions in a braid on Ophelia’s hair.

Dean passed out cards to each of them. “So the game works like this.” He plucked two cards from his hand. “We go in order. Aces are low. I’ll say, I’ve got two ace’s.” He said, waving the two cards. He sat them face down with a bright smile.

“And then?” Phel asked, suspiciously.

“Bullshit.” Em said smoothly, her lips pursed.

“Well fuck me sideways.” Dean smirked, flipping over the cards. “You got it.” He had a queen and a king that he’d placed down. He took the cards back into his hand.

“So we just call you on your shit?” Ophelia asked with a grin.

“That’s the game.” He laughed.

“Been waiting my whole life for this.” Sam added with a laugh. “Let’s do it.”

Not all afternoons were like that, unfortunately.

“One three.”

“She’s got an honest face.” Sam smiled brightly, kissing Pheli.

Dean lit his cigarette and pulled the smoke in to his lunges. Emerson caught herself watching him. They were always looking at each other when the other was looking away.

“Two fours.”

“Bullshit, Sammy.” Dean let out a smoky laugh.

“Fuck you.”

Deans lip was busted and he had a cut right above his eye that was healing. They didn’t talk about it, but Emerson knew. She’d seen John through her window. He slammed Dean against his car. She didn’t know why he did it, but it didn’t matter. No one knew. No one but her, and it wasn’t her place to know. It wasn’t her place to say anything.

“Em, it’s your turn.” Pheli touched her sisters leg gently, trying to pull her out of her daze.

“Uh, sorry.” Her eyes met Deans, then flickered back to the cards in her hands. They looked blurry. “I’ve gotta go.” She stood up suddenly, dropping her cards in the grass.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it, Phel. I just… I forgot I have something I have to do.” She jogged back into the house, letting the back door shut behind her.

Not every day was like that. Not every day was calm and full of laughter. Her mom dropped a bottle of wine the night before. She said it was an accident, but Emerson wasn’t blind. Her hand just stopped working. She lost her grip and the entire bottle of merlot crashed to the ground. It was a sea of red covering the kitchen floor. Green tinted glass sat in the pools of red.

_“Shit!” Jana exclaimed._

_“Mom!”_

_“Emerson, honey, stay back. I dropped the wine.”_

_“Are you okay?”_

_“I’m fine.” She waived her hand._

_She knew better. Her mother wasn’t fine, and she probably never would be again. It was the beginning of the end. “Let me help you clean this up.” She offered._

_“No, I can do it myself.”_

_“I know you can… I just thought…”_

_“No, Emerson” She snapped her fingers weakly, pointing to the stairs. “Go make sure your sister is doing her homework. I’m fine here.”_

Everything was falling apart, and Emerson didn’t think she could handle it anymore. She’d been so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t hear the door behind her open. “Em.” Dean said, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She flinched away from him. “God, why are you always sneaking up on me?”

“Sorry.” He moved his hand. “You just seemed upset.”

“I’m not.”

“Right.” He said, wiping a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “You can tell me.”

“I don’t want to.” She said, eyeing his healing lip. It’s you. On top of everything else, I’m worried about you.

“Okay.” He looked around before grabbing her hand. “C’mere.”

“Where are we going?” She asked as he pulled her out the front door and across her lawn.

“My place.”

“What?” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “Dean I…”

“It’s okay. It’ll help.”

She swallowed hard. She could feel her heartbeat behind her eyes as he unlocked his front door and pulled her inside. They walked down the stairs and into his bedroom. _This is Dean Winchester’s bedroom!_ She wanted to look around, to take it all in, but she couldn’t because she was too fucking nervous.

He moved his hand from hers and held her face in his hands, brushing away any wetness that was left. “Stay right here.” He murmured.

She nodded. It was all she could do. Her mouth was so dry, she was afraid it would crumble if she tried to produce any string of words. He turned away from her and started digging in his drawers. She watched him. The way his back curved as he bent over, the way his jeans hugged his legs just enough. Her face was so hot, she worried she’d start sweating.

“This helps me.” He explained. “When the world is too fucking much.” He turned around, holding a glass figurine. It was an angel, pretty, and delicate.

“Are we going to… pray?” Her nerves were quickly replaced by confusion.

“No.” He laughed and placed the figurine in her palm. “Break it.” He said quietly, their hands still touching. “It’s therapeutic.”

“You want me to break this.”

“That’s what I said.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

Emerson held it in her hand, letting it catch the light of his bedroom before she curled her fingers around it. Destruction doesn’t solve anything. Pain breeds more pain. But yet, she really wanted to break something. She wanted to break John for hurting Dean. She wanted to rip apart the doctors that diagnosed her mother. Even though it wouldn’t change anything. She’d still be sick. She’d still be dying. The angel in her hand stared up at her, and it looked so pious she couldn’t help but pull it back and throw it against the wall as hard as she could.

She let out a yell as it crashed against the wall, exploding into a dozen pieces. There was something deeply satisfying about watching the pieces crash to the floor. It was different than the bottle of merlot. It was purposeful. Her body wasn’t failing her, it was helping. She grinned wildly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Another one.” He said, opening his palm to reveal another angel.

She took it eagerly and threw it a bit harder. It bounced off the wall and hit the book shelf before exploding. The colorless glass sprayed out into the carpet, and even though it’d be a bitch to clean up, Dean offered her another, and another until she was weak at the knees.

He wrapped an arm around her, and lowered her to a seated position next to him on his bed. “I’ve got you.” He said, quietly.

She looked at her trembling hands. Hands that destroy. She curled her fingers in on themselves and looked up at Dean. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I’m not mad anymore.” She was just sad. She was heartbroken.

“You’re welcome.”

She reached up her finger and ran it over the cut on Dean’s lip. “Why didn’t you hit him back?”

Dean winced, but he didn’t back away from her. Maybe he suspected she knew the whole time. “Would you believe me if I said violence wasn’t the answer?”

Her eyes flickered to the glass shards covering his room, and the small dents on his wall from repeated throws. “Not even a little bit.”

He rubbed circles on her arm, looking off somewhere else. “ I guess I don’t want to lower myself to his level. I want to be better than him.”

“You are.” Emerson promised him. “You’ve always been better than him.”

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.”

  
“Not even Pheli? Sam doesn’t…”

“No.” She cut him off. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” She stood up, moving out from under his arm, and she leaned down and pressed her lips to the cut above his eye. “If he’s ever coming after you, you can stay with me. If something happens to you I don’t think I could forgive myself.”

Dean stared at her, his mouth open slightly, before pressing his lips together in a line. He nodded. The realization that Emerson Maklen could care about him was dizzying. “Bullshit.” He whispered with a slight smile.

“What?”

“I said, bullshit. You could forgive yourself, because it wouldn’t be your fault. It’d be his. Don’t let other people’s mistakes sit on your shoulders. The only thing we can be responsible for is our own actions.”

“How about you practice what you preach, Winchester?”

He reached up and touched her cheek. “I’m trying.” He promised. “I’m really trying.”

 

**-1 Week After-**

 

Emerson ran her fingers along the dents in the wall of Dean’s bedroom where she’d thrown the figurines.

“What were you so upset about that day?”

She turned to look at him. “Mom’s MS was finally showing symptoms, and then I saw where John hit you and I just...”

“How’d you know, anyway?”

“I saw him. Outside of my window one night. It was horrible, Dean.”

“It was.” He said, between gritted teeth. “He was a marine, so he knew how to dish out a beating.” He laughed dryly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He said swiftly. “Plus. For all I know he’s already dead.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“Hey dorks!” Pheli asked, popping her head into Dean’s bedroom. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Nope.” They both said at once, causing her eyebrow to quirk up.

“Uh huh. Sam and I were about to start an exciting game of Bullshit.” She grinned widely, waving the cards. “You in?”

“I don’t know.” Emerson groaned.

“Would it help if I said we were playing... strip bullshit? With alcohol?” She held out her other hand exposing her bottle of tequila.

“Fuck it. I’m in.” Dean grinned, swiping the tequila.

“You’re serious?” Emerson asked her sister.

She shrugged. “We are stuck in this basement for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’re as bored as I am. We need to wind down, and I figured what better than a little drinking game.”

“That involves nudity?”

“Only if you’re bad at lying.” Pheli said innocently.

“Yeah.” Emerson rolled her eyes. “I’m so sure.”

The four of them made it into the living room and got in a seated position. Pheli dealt out the cards. “Okay, so the rules are the same. The only kicker is that if you call Bullshit and you’re wrong then you can either take the cards, take a shot, or lose an item of clothing. If you’ve put more than one card you get more than one punishment. So if I put out three cards I can either, take three shots, take two and an item of clothing... you get the point. Oh, and if you call bullshit and you’re wrong, then you have to take whatever punishment the wrongly accused gives you.”

“And who wins?” Emerson asked, suddenly wishing she was wearing more than her pajama shorts and Dean’s t-shirt.

“The winner happens when they completely run out of cards. Like Uno. If you’re naked, then you just have to do shots or take cards.”

“Maklen I’ve called you a genius before, but now I think you’re an _evil_ genius.” Dean grinned, but he wasn’t looking at Pheli at all. His eyes were on Emerson, and this time she wasn’t looking away.

“Alright let’s get started.” Sam laughed. “Phel you’re first.”

Turned out that Pheli was really bad at Bullshit. After five rounds she was sitting in her bra and panties, and she was starting to slur.

Dean was only wearing his jeans, his bare chest exposed. His dog tags rested on his chest. He looked at her under hooded eyes. He’d taken two shots, but still seemed pretty comfortable. Relaxed.

Sam matched his brother pretty well, his skinny chest exposed. Pheli drew little hearts on his chest with her fingers.

“Okay.” Pheli said sitting up. She held up four cards. “Four queenssss.” The S on the Queens hissed a little too long.

“Bullshit.” Em said, looking at her sister over her cards.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you!” She pointed at Emerson. “Read em and weep, sister!” She flipped over her cards to reveal all four queens.

Emerson swallowed hard. She’d managed to avoid any real consequences up until that point. She’d gotten lucky and gotten all good cards. “Be nice, Phel.”

“Get naked, sister.” She giggled. “I own you!”

Pheli never could hold her alcohol. She got sloppy over a few wine coolers, and even then she was a little vindictive. She never quite knew the line, and Emerson was feeling it.

“I only have two pieces of clothes, Phel.” She met her sisters eyes, feeling heat crawl up her neck.

“So I guess you’ll be taking two shots as well!”

“Are you kidding me?” Emerson hissed.

“She doesn’t have to...” Dean began before Pheli waved him off.

“Yes she does! That’s the rules.”

Emerson took the bottle of tequila and took two big swigs, closing her eyes. She hoped it would give her some liquid courage, because she could feel how red and blotchy her skin was under her t-shirt.

She sat down the bottle and Pheli scooped it up, taking a few drinks herself as she eagerly watched her sister’s embarrassment grow.

Dean peeled his eyes off of Emerson, to try to give her some privacy as she pulled off Deans t-shirt from her torso. She sucked in her breath as the cool basement air hit her bare breasts. She sighed and shook her head, as she pulled off her shorts. She sat her pile of clothes in front of her. “Okay. Dean it’s your turn..”

His tongue darted out of his bottom lip, and Emerson could tell he was doing everything in his power not to look at her. To respect her space. Her heart flipped.

“I’ve got uh... two kings.”

“Bullshit!” Pheli sang.

“Nope, sorry.” He said awkwardly.

“Uh oh! Guess you’re seeing both twins no nos!” Pheli giggled as she tried to fiddle with her bra.

“Nope.” Sam said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.” He stood up and threw Pheli over his shoulder. “We are going to bed. Night guys.”

“Sam you’re no fun!” Pheli complained.

Dean handed Emerson the blanket from the couch, his eyes flickering to her for just a second as she wrapped the blanket around herself. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t always wondered what she’d look like naked. He’d seen her in a bathing suit but nothing could compare to how beautiful she was. Her face was pink from embarrassment, and her nipples alert from the cold. Her blonde hair spilled over her pale shoulder, and he wanted to kiss her.

“I’ll give you some space.” He said, standing up.

“You don’t have to go.” She said quietly, looking at him.

Her blush was starting to recede.

“Yeah I do.” He said quietly, and he went back into his room. He closed the door behind him, leaving her sitting in the living room alone. He pressed his back to the door and tried to calm down. His body and his mind where racing toward a finish line. Emerson Maklen. The woman he couldn’t want. The one he could never have. Major national disaster or not. He was still him and she was still her. No amount of card games would change what he already knew, he would never be with Emerson, and never is a long fucking time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Let it hurt until it can’t hurt anymore.” - Liam Ryan

**-12 Days After-**

The sisters didn’t need to be told how bad it was when the power started to blink in the basement. The water had shut off on day ten, and the air stopped blowing at day eleven. On day twelve everything went dark.

They couldn’t stay there, not anymore. They were out of options.

“So we go.” Emerson said, her arms folded across her chest. “We can’t stay here.”

“Go where?” Sam asked quietly, Pheli was asleep on his lap. She’d been up crying again, it was harder for her to keep it together the longer that they were stuck in the basement. The longer that no one came for them.

They talked in candle light. The room smelled like cinnamon sticks and vanilla. Emerson watched the flames dance in Deans eyes.

“I don’t know. There’s gotta be somewhere. A safe house. We just have to find it. We can get supplies, and move out.” Dean said, his voice low.

“But the air isn’t safe.” Emerson countered.

“We have the oxygen tanks, and gas masks. We can make it. We have to try.”

Her lips were in a tight line. What other choice did they have? They couldn’t sit in the dark forever, waiting for someone to rescue them that may never come. For all that she knew everyone was dead already. Her mom always taught her that it was up to her to make her own destiny. _“Save yourselves, girls. It may be romantic to think that you can be saved, to wait around for Prince Charming, but instead of waiting for someone to come along, solve your own problems. Be your own Prince Charming.”_

“Okay.” Emerson agreed. “When do we leave?”

“I think we should pack our bags and head out in the morning before the day gets too hot. If it’s anything like it was, the bulk of the day will be scorching. We can’t really risk leaving at that time.” Dean explained.

“Guess we should get some sleep then.” She said quietly.

“Good idea.” Sam said, leaning back on the couch, closing his eyes. “Em you can take my bed, Phel is out like a light.”

“Okay.” She said, standing up. She leaned in and blew out one of the candles, then another, leaving them in darkness.

She pushed into Sam’s room and lowered herself on to his bed. She snuggled under the covers, but stared into the darkness of the bedroom. When they were teenagers, the boys bedrooms were on the upper floor, but when they got older they moved to the recently finished basement. Emerson wondered what the upstairs rooms were turned into when the brothers moved out.

She couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know what the day would bring. She didn’t know what it would all mean. She hadn’t been outside. She’d barely talked to anyone in the last few days, she was reading through Sam’s book series on his shelves. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones. The classics. All they had was time, at least until that day. Until everything changed.

“Emerson?” Dean asked from the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Can you sleep?”

“What do you think?” She had been avoiding him since the strip Bullshit situation. It was easy, because he seemed even more embarrassed than she was.

“Want some company?”

Old habits die hard.

“Okay.” She scooted over to make room for him. She turned on to her side and he slid into bed next to her. He laid flat on his back, with an arm behind his head.

“I never slept in Afghanistan. No more than thirty minutes at a time, at most. This isn’t any different.”

“I can’t stop thinking about the what if’s.”

“There are a million of them, it’ll drive you crazy.”

“That isn’t the only thing driving me crazy.” She admitted. It was easier to tell the truth under the veil of night. Blackness made everything less distinct. Fuzzy and nondescript.

“Oh yeah? What else?”

“Dean.” She whispered, waiting for her eyes to adjust. “It seems like… it seems like we aren’t getting rid of each other, right?”

“Doesn’t look like it, Maklen.” She felt him turn on his side, and scoot a little closer to her in the full sized bed. She was now completely aware of his body near hers, his warm breath tickled her face, and the bed dipped toward him.

“I’m sure there’s a million people you’d rather be here with.”

“Not really.” He said nonchalantly. He reached up to her cheek and brushed it with his fingers. “You’re not the worst company in the world.”

“Dean Winchester do you actually like me?” She gasped dramatically.

He snorted a bit, his fingers traveling from her cheek down her neck and arm. “To put it mildly.”

She thought he might kiss her. The air felt thick between them, palpable. There was a pressure, a pull, making her want to scoot a little closer to close the space between them. “You’re not the worst company either.” She admitted.

She was afraid, there was no denying it. She was afraid of what was outside waiting for them. She was afraid of dying, of making the wrong choice, and it’d be easier to let Dean hold her up. She knew he was capable. He had strong arms, and an even stronger disposition, but there was something else in the back of her mind. A question she couldn’t shake. The same one that she asked him twelve days previously, back when things were easier.

_“Where’s the famous Lisa that I’ve heard so much about?”_

He moved closer to her, their breath mingling, and chests brushing. “Guess its a good thing we got stuck together then.” His nose bumped hers gently, almost as if asking permission.

_“And what about you? Sargent Dean Winchester with the US Army, back at home at twenty-seven living with Mommy and Daddy? What the fuck is that about? Where’s your fiancee, Dean?”_

“Em.” He breathed. He was close. Maybe he needed her as much as she needed him. They could lose themselves in each other, like Pheli and Sam did. Maybe the weight wouldn’t be as heavy if they were together. Or at the very least maybe she would feel better, safe, even for just a second.

“I need you to tell me about Lisa.”

But nothing was ever that easy, was it?

He sucked in his breath. “Fucking hell.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Emerson spilled. “Am I supposed to ignore the fact that you’re engaged?”

“I’m not engaged.” He said swiftly, with a sigh.

“How convenient.”

“You want the truth?”

“That’s all I’ve wanted to hear since day one.”

“Fine, you got it.” He said between gritted teeth. Emerson’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she was finally able to make out his strained expression. His jaw was tight and his eyebrows were together. He wasn’t looking at her. “When I got back from Afghanistan I was pretty fucked up. Sammy didn’t wait up for me, he was away at school. You were gone, and I’d seen some shit. I was messed up. Physically and mentally, and then I met Lis. She was…. she was kind, and she dealt with a lot of my shit. I was drinking way too fucking much. She didn’t deserve the shit she put up with, but I loved her.” He was quiet for a minute, and Emerson let him gather his thoughts. His voice shook a bit when he continued. “She was pregnant. A little boy, and I was so fucking excited. I thought I found my way out of the dark, ya know? Like I’d see god in the face of that baby. Then I caught her with some guy. Turned out I wasn’t the father. She was fucking someone else the whole time. So I left, and came back home.”

Emerson winced. “Shit Dean I’m sorry I…”

“Sorry for what, Em? For prying? That’s all you do! Why don’t you just let me tell you when I’m ready? Why can’t you just trust me when I tell you to leave it alone?”

“Dean I…”

“Just leave it, Em.” He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and walked out of the room. The door slammed behind him, leaving her more alone than she’d felt in weeks.

 

**-13 Days After-**

 

They stepped out the front door into the bright Summer morning. Dean avoided Emerson completely, by taking the lead for the group. She couldn’t gauge his emotions from under his gas mask. She could hear her own breathing inside of her mask like Darth Vader and it was making her unnecessarily anxious. Or maybe it was necessary.

They each had a large pack on their backs, with an oxygen tank, medical supplies, non perishable food items, a few changes of clothes, and bottled water. Her back was already sore from the weight of the pack.

_“Here.” Dean said, passing them each a hand gun._

_“What? No way!” Pheli said, pushing it back._

_“We don’t know what we are getting into out there. We may need them.” Dean said, seriously._

_“Not me. No way. Someone else take it.”_

Emerson felt the weight of her own gun at her hip. It felt heavy. She was on Pheli’s side. She didn’t like guns, but Dean was right. They had no idea what they were walking into.

Everything looked just as they’d left it when they entered the Winchester house. Cars wrecked, decayed bodies in the street. The major difference was the plant life, everything was red and menacing from the rain, growing jagged and angry toward the sky. The flowers, grass, and weeds were all growing out of control.

They stepped through them, and the plants tickled above the knee. They decided that they’d go toward the hospital to see if there was any news about the girls mother. They weren’t hopeful, but Ophelia wouldn’t leave until she knew that their mom was at rest.

They walked in a line, carefully, not sure what to expect.

There was no real sign of life. Anyone who had been there were long gone. The world was quiet.

Dean put his fist up to signal the group to stop, and Emerson glanced around to the front of the group, and she put her hand out to stop Pheli. There was a sixteen foot long snake that slithered in front of them. It was black, sleek, and way too fucking large. It was the thickness of Emerson’s thigh at least. Her heart pounded in her chest. Ophelia’s hand tightened around her sisters arm as the head of the snake turned to expose a second head. It was all fangs, it’s maw opening and exposing long black teeth with a hiss.

Dean pulled out his gun, clicked off the safety, pointed it at the snake and pulled the trigger blowing it away. Two shots, one for each head. The long body laid lifeless on the ground, spewing thick black blood out of its open neck holes.

Dean raised his hand and waived them forward again, but Emerson couldn’t move. The Maklen sisters were frozen, staring at the snake on the road in front of them. Emerson wondered if it escaped from the zoo, but she hadn’t recalled seeing anything even that large there. Especially not with two heads.

Sam turned to the girls, wordlessly, and placed his hand on Pheli’s. He gave her a reassuring nod, and she slowly released her grip from Emerson’s arm. The couple laced their fingers together and moved forward. Emerson had no choice but to follow them. Dean didn’t come to her.

 

**-1 Year Before-**

 

“I’ll have a vodka soda, make it a double.” Emerson offered a weak smile as she lowered herself onto the bar stool. She came to think. To try to wipe away all of the thoughts that were dancing around her mind.

_“We can’t put her on that machine, Em! It’s cruel!”_

_“She can’t breathe like this, Phel! It’s over. Okay? It’s over!”_

She was the bad guy, again. She was always the bad guy. She had to point out what her sister couldn’t. She had to make the decision.

She took the glass in her hand an downed the drink, signaling for another. The cheap vodka stung her throat and made her head pound a bit. She welcomed any numbness it would bring. Anything to quiet her thoughts.

“Hey.”

Her eyes flickered next to her to find Sam Winchester lower himself next to her. Her sisters boyfriend. She tilted her head to see if Pheli was on his heels like normal. She wasn’t. “Where’s Phel?”

“Still at the hospital with your Mom.”

“Did she send you?”

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to check on you. I was worried about you.”

Emerson and Sam hadn’t ever been close. Not explicitly. He’d always been there, but more of an extension of Ophelia. She never saw him much individually, even though part of her ached for his friendship.

“I’m fine.” Emerson said, but she could admit that it sounded a little strained.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, you know.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I think I do know that.” She spun her straw in her glass before plucking it out of the liquid. She took a swig straight from the glass.

Sam watched her expectantly, giving her time to process her thoughts.

“How’s Dean?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never asked me about him before.”

“I know.”

“He’s good.” Sam said carefully, not sure what all to say to her. “He’s getting married.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line. Of course he was. She couldn’t expect for him to be single forever. It wasn’t how life worked. Nothing was quite how she thought life should work. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s happy.”

“Are you happy?”

Emerson smiled weakly. Her lips tugging at the corners. “Happiness is relative, Sam.”

“I know that.”

“I guess we both know a lot, then.”

Sam reached for her hand at the same time that she reached to finish off her glass. His hazel eyes bore into hers. “Emerson you don’t have to face everything alone.”

“I’m not facing everything alone. I have Pheli.”

“But you’re sugar coating things for her. I watch you do it.”

“I didn’t do that today.”

“No.” He said quietly. “You didn’t, and you’re punishing yourself for it.”

The bar was quiet, it smelled like musty sea breeze. Like molding alcohol. Like it’d been shut up for too long. Emerson wondered if that’s what her heart would smell like if she cracked it open.

“You’re not letting yourself mourn.” Sam said intensely, his voice barely above a whisper. “You need to let yourself feel, Em. She isn’t here for you to protect, not right now.”

Her chest felt like the air right before a rain. It tingled with electricity, her breath pushing itself out of her mouth like a gust of wind. She was bubbling over, like the waves during a storm. She crashed into him before she could stop herself, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. The rain erupted in a thunder of sobs as she cried into his shirt. His arms went around her and he rubbed her back. “Shh, I’m here.”

Her Mom wasn’t there anymore. She was sedated. _“We can keep her comfortable, Miss Maklen.”_ She didn’t look comfortable. She looked like a shell.

_“I can’t believe you’re giving up on her, Emerson.” Ophelia said through gritted teeth. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”_

She was made Power of Attorney for a reason. _Why me?_ She’d asked herself a thousand times. She wanted to scream. To walk into the ocean and never come back out. She wanted to drown in something else. Anything else.

She would never forget her moms fingers twitching at her side as the medication took over her. The urgency of the staff to put the tube down her throat. The tape on her dry lips. Who would be there to put chapstick on her? She hated dry lips. The hospital smelled sterile. Like medicine. She shouldn’t have to be around that smell. She should always smell like cinnamon. Like baked goods.

Emerson couldn’t breathe. She was gasping, her fingers curled in Sam’s shirt. He pulled back from her, his palms on either side of her face. “Are you okay? Hey, look at me.”

She couldn’t make out his face through the tears, but she grabbed his cheeks anyway. She leaned forward, her lips ready to grab his. To close the space between them. To distract herself. To drown in him, but he stopped her before she got too close.

“Em.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m not the one you want to kiss.” He said quietly, wiping her tears.

He was right. She knew that. Sam wasn’t the one. He never was the one.

 

**-13 Days After-**

 

The hospital was picked over. It’d clearly been looted, which gave the group a little hope that there were survivors. “She’s on the third floor.” Emerson lifted her mask for a moment to tell them.

They nodded and followed her to the stairs. The emergency lights were barely illuminating the hallways. Gurneys were overturned. Papers littered the floor like a great wind had blown through. There were no staff or patients to be seen, but most doors were still closed.

Emerson scanned the halls, looking for any sign of danger. She stopped in her tracks as her eyes landed on a red smear on the wall. She reached forward and touched it with her gloved hand. Blood. It was wet. She picked up speed. Her heart was pounding. She pushed into the stairwell and climbed, up, up, and up.

Room 315.

If there was blood that meant someone was alive. Someone. Miracles happened sometimes. Didn’t they?

_“I read about this time that a MS patient who was able to be weaned off the vent! Maybe after she gets her strength back…”_

_“It’s not about strength, Phel. It’s her muscles. It’s… she doesn’t work right. Her body is betraying her. No amount of rest can fix something that is so fundamentally broken.”_

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was a fucking cynic. She turned the doorknob.

The room was surprisingly cold against the summer heat outside of the closed window. It was dark, but a shape could be made out on the bed. It was unmoving.

Pheli ran ahead of Emerson to the side of the bed.

It was Jana. The tube was still down her throat, but all of the machines were off. She laid lifeless, just like the last time they’d seen her. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her hair was swooped across her head.

A miracle didn’t happen. She was gone. They knew she would be dead, deep down. Even if the bomb never went off. It was why the girls came home. They were going to let her go. Somehow, it all was so much harder. Emerson pulled off her gas mask, and Dean stepped toward her back. Sam reached out an arm to stop him.

She moved closer to her mother. “Hi Mom.” She whispered, removing the tape from her chapped lips. She tilted her chin, and slowly pulled the tube out. She let her lay back again, and she finally looked at rest. Her eyes were closed and her muscles relaxed. She could’ve been sleeping.

Pheli removed her gas mask and let herself lay across her mother in a hug. She let out a single sob. “I thought… I really thought…”

“I know.” Emerson said, holding in her own tears. “So did I.” She could feel the familiar sting behind her eyes as she watched Pheli fall apart.

Sam moved toward Pheli, removing his own gas mask, and he pulled her into his arms. She allowed him to take her, then. “She’s gone.”

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” He held her, his hand supporting her head as she melted against him. He was there, again, to comfort her. He was always there.

Emerson stood alone, again. At least she thought so, until she felt Deans arms snake around her. She turned to look at him and was met with his green eyes. Her bottom lip trembled and he pulled her closer. “It’s okay, Em. You can fall apart, I’ve got you.”

Somehow she knew that he did. That he always would. So she cried. She fucking bawled. For once in her life she didn’t feel so alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “How exciting - how nice, to have a little love - but what am I to do?” - Virginia Woolf

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“Come on, Cranky. Just smile. It won’t hurt, ya know?” Dean chuckled from the front seat, his sunglasses resting on his nose.

“Nobody asked you, Johnny Cash.”

“I know that was supposed to be an insult, but I take it as compliment.” He chuckled and started to whistle Folsom Prison Blues.

All of the windows of the Impala were down. Ophelia’s hand was out the window, rolling in the waves of air. “He’s right, you know!”

“Nobody asked you.”

Sam laughed and turned back to look at the girls. “Come on, Em.”

“Don’t _come on_ me.” She huffed.

“She’s allergic to fun.” Pheli said, leaning forward to kiss Sam from the back seat. “Ignore her.”

“Jesus, you two! Not on the leather.” Dean laughed swatting at the couple.

It was three months until Dean left for the military, and the four of them were spending as much time together as possible, even though the twins were the only two who knew. In turn, Emerson couldn’t stop staring at him. She’d started having pretty graphic nightmares of him stepping on land mines, or coming home with only one leg. She would run to him, but she would never reach him in time. She would wake up with his blood on her hands.

“Em?”

“Hm?” Her eyebrows raised at the sound of his voice.

“You getting out of the car?”

She looked around and noticed that they stopped. She opened up the door to the Impala, and immediately heard the screams. They came from all directions. The roar from the carts climbing up the hills. Steel on steel as the rides screeched to a halt at the end of the tracks.

“I _love_ Happy Fun Land!” Pheli screeched, bouncing up and down, her hand gripping Sam’s. He laughed in response and kissed her head.

“Such a terrible name.” Emerson complained.

“Come on, Grumpy.” Dean said throwing an arm around her to pull her forward.

“Back off, Winchester.” She batted him away, but kept pace with the group.

It was Ophelia’s idea to spend the day at the amusement park. Summer had officially began and it was _just what the doctor ordered_. Maybe if the doctor ordered torture and spending too much money, but who was Emerson to deny Pheli a day of fun? It wasn’t really in her. So she bought a ticket and hopped in the back of the Impala.

“Alright so what’s first?” Sam asked, curling his finger around one of Pheli’s braids.

“I want something fried!”

“Phel you can’t eat something fried before you go on rides, you’ll throw up.” Emerson said, bumping her sisters hip.

“I will not throw up!”

“Throwing up is half the fun of the amusement park.” Dean teased.

“You’ve never seen her puke.” Emerson raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t pretty.”

“That’s Sam’s problem.”

“It’ll be all of our problems if she throws up. Trust me.”

“She’s right.” Sam chuckled.

“You all suck.” Pheli complained.

“You love us, Maklen, admit it.” Dean grinned.

“I think you’re thinking of Emerson.” Phel laughed, skipping ahead of the group. “We are going to have fun today! It’s a royal decree!”

 

**-15 Days After-**

 

They made their way back to the Impala after the hospital. The girls slept in the backseat, cuddled together. Emerson’s head was in Pheli’s lap, and Pheli’s head rested against the window.

Sam glanced back at them and smiled. “They’re out.”

“Finally.” Dean said, his eyes flickering to the rear view mirror. “Em’s barely slept.”

“Who does that sound like?”

“Shut up.” Dean gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. They’d spent the night in the hospital. The girls needed to say goodbye.

There wasn’t any movement in the hospital that he could detect, and he would’ve known. He was up all night with his finger on the trigger of his gun. It wasn’t any different than being in war. He got used to the constant callous on his trigger finger. He told himself, when he was discharged, that he wouldn’t touch another gun. But the situation they were in was the perfect excuse to break his own rules. No matter what guns made him into.

“It’s looking stormy.” Sam commented, squinting through the windshield.

It did. The sky looked angry. It was dark, to the point that it almost looked like night time ahead of them, but it wasn’t. It was the early morning. White licks of lightening shot across the sky in a jagged line. Thunder boomed, shaking the road beneath them.

“Maybe we should find cover.” Sam offered, as if it hadn’t occurred to Dean. He shot his younger brother a look.

“There’s nothing for miles.” He gestured to the trees. “And after that fucking snake, man, we don’t know what’s out there.”

“Wait, what road is this?” Sam squinted at the signs that they were speeding by on the highway. They hadn’t seen any other cars. It seemed that everyone tried to evacuate taking the other highway out of town. “Shit, Dean. You know what’s on this highway?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Some gas station that sells nerd merchandise?”

“No, you cranky asshole, _Happy Fun Land_!”

Dean was tempted to slam on his breaks immediately and make Sam get out, but the whole impending doom of a storm kept his foot steadily on the gas. “We are not going to Happy Fun Land, Samuel.”

“Aw, come on.”

“It’s not like it’ll be _running_.”

“Well, yeah, but they have tons of buildings. We can find shelter there.”

“You’re no different than when you were ten.” Dean grumbled glancing at the billboard advertising the amusement park. His fingers itched at the memory in the back of his mind from the last time that they went together. “Fine. You’re right, anyway. Not sure what else is out here.”

“Hell yes! Phel will be so excited.” He grinned widely.

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Am not. Nostalgic, yeah, but not weird.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

 

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“Who is down for a roller coaster?” Dean asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the group.

“Me!” Phel said, jumping up and down. “Sam, will you hold my hand?”

“Of course I will.” He winked at her.

“My protector.” She purred, lacing her fingers with Sams.

Emerson rolled her eyes and Dean took a step closer to her. “Guess it’s just you and me, Em.”

She shook her head. “No way. You can’t pay me enough to get on that.”

“If not payment,” He began, stepping even closer. Pheli and Sam were kissing and didn’t notice the older Winchester approaching her. “Then what do you want, Maklen?”

“Nothing from you, Winchester.” She said, her voice hitched in her throat.

“Mhm.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Come on.” He said quietly just to her. “Just ride it with me one, and if you hate it then I’ll sit out with you on the rest of the rides.”

“No you won’t.”

“Scouts honor.” He held up his three fingers together, batting his eyelashes.

“You weren’t a scout.”

“No, but Sammy was.” Dean grinned widely. “Come on today is supposed to be fun!”

“Fine! I’ll go just... stop being so annoying.” She pushed past him, trying to get the heat that was climbing up her neck and onto her cheeks to calm the fuck down.

Dean smirked, watching her walk away, knowing he’d won at least that small battle.

The four of them settled into their seats on the roller coaster. “You’ll protect me?” Pheli asked, one more time, to Sam.

“From anything.” He promised, kissing her.

“Will you protect me?” Dean asked Emerson, doing a perfect Ophelia impression.

She couldn’t help but bust into a fit of giggles. “Fuck off, Dean.”

“Hey, that isn’t your line.”

She winked at him, and the rollercoaster shot forward, immediately creeping up a hill. Emerson felt her stomach drop. She could feel her pulse in her ears. She gripped the arm bar tightly, her knuckles white.

“You okay?” He asked her, as the crept toward the top.

“Yes!” She said, her voice a little too high pitched. “I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this.”

He smiled at her a little, unable to hide how adorable she looked with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip before offering his open palm to her. “I actually _will_ protect you, ya know that, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Her eyes were clamped shut tightly. “Just tell me when it’s over.”

“I think you’ll know when it’s over.” He teased, his eyes never leaving her.

Then they dropped over the edge. They plummeted down, and her eyes shot open, her hand immediately grabbing Deans. He curled his fingers around hers and let her squeeze.

They rounded a corner and she slid against him, screaming, tears streaming down her cheeks. He laughed, and he felt a little mean for it, but he couldn’t help it. She was so fucking adorable. The cart traveled the hills, around tight curves, through the trees. Emerson screamed the whole way, digging her nails into the back of Deans hand.

They came to a quick stop. He expected her to shoot him an angry look for laughing at her, but instead she turned her body and buried her tear streaked face into his chest.

“Hey, you good?” He asked, wrapping an arm around her. The cart jolted forward so they could get parked and exit.

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

“Hey.” He lifted her face and wiped her tears. Her eyes were red and her mouth was open, letting out ragged breaths. Dean held her face in his hands and he offered her a smile. “You hated it, didn’t you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Em, are you okay?” Pheli asked from outside of the cart, but Emerson didn’t look at her sister. Her eyes didn’t leave Dean’s.

“I’m sorry I made you come.” He said softly. “I’ll sit out with you for the rest of the day.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah I do. A deal’s a deal.”

 

**-15 Days After-**

 

The sky was looking even more menacing as the black Chevy Impala pulled into the parking lot of the amusement park. There were more cars than expected, but it seemed empty, just like everything else.

“Twins.” Dean said, glancing back at the girls. “Aye, we need to get cover. Looks like rain’s comin.”

“Hm?” Pheli asked, opening her eyes. “Shit, where are we?”

“Look around.” Sam said with a smile.

“Oh my god!” She squealed, causing Emerson to shake awake.

“What the fuck?” Emerson asked with a yawn. “What’s going on?”

“They took us to Happy Fun Land!” Pheli squealed.

Emerson sat up and squinted out the window. “Is this a joke?”

“I wish.” Dean laughed. “But no. It looks like the weathers about to get bad, and we needed some more protection than Baby can give us.”

Emerson offered Dean an exhausted, tight smile. “Back on with the masks.”

“Yup.” He said as he grabbed his.

The four of them slid their masks on and grabbed their bags from the trunk. Dean took the lead, like usual, but this time Emerson was on his heels. Jana’s death had wrecked her, and she didn’t want to stay behind anymore. It was time for her to take control.

They pushed into the park, to find a place to take cover. Everything was dark. All of the rides had been disabled. It looked so much less magical not all lit up. Trash was pushed by a gentle wind, and danced along the cobblestone pathway.

Pheli’s grip tightened on Sam’s hand. It wasn’t the way she remembered it. She knew that things were bad, that was pretty clear, but it was hard to find the magic when Happy Fun Land looked so crushed.

The sky growled it anger, thunder rolling over their heads. Dean glanced around before spotting a diner. He waved them forward and they pushed into the restaurant. It was all glass walls and windows, but the back portion was covered by thick walls, in case they had to take cover.

The tables were still covered in food, molding fries and burgers sat, covered in dried ketchup, right where their owners had left them. Dean picked up the red baskets from a long booth and threw them out before settling in.

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“Burgers? Really? We can have burgers anywhere.”

“Yeah, but they’re always good.” Dean grinned.

“I want something weird. A funnel cake?” Pheli grinned, batting her eyelashes at Sam.

“You got it.”

“And then we are doing the roller coaster that goes upside down!”

“Perfect.” Sam grinned widely.

“I’ll stay with Dean.” Emerson said before the two couples parted ways.

“Wow, volunteering to stay with me? What’d I do to deserve this honor, m’lady?”

“You were being nice. Don’t fuck it up.” She said before going up to order a set of cheese fries.

Dean ordered a bacon cheeseburger, duh,  and a root beer float. They sat across from each other in a booth near the window. People chased their children down the cobblestone path outside of the window , couples held hands and shared ice cream cones, everyone was living their life, but yet Dean was staring at her. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Yeah.” He said, reaching forward, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Got it.” He murmured.

She pressed her lips closed. She felt like she was looking at him for the first time. His eyes were green. _Green_. Like the apples she’d eat in the fall after they were dipped in caramel. His lips were full, and they looked soft like a fresh peach. He had a sky full of stars of freckles on his nose and cheeks. She wanted to reach forward and connect them all with her index finger. To find a picture in him like Pheli did when they looked at the clouds. “What’s this?” She asked, reaching forward, across the table, and plucking at the necklace around his neck.

“Sammy gave it to me when we were kids.”

“And you still wear it?” She ran her fingers over the weird, misshapen metal face around his neck.

“Of course I do.”

Dean Winchester danced with his mom, he sat out with her when the roller coaster was too much, even though he wanted to go, he wore some ugly necklace for years just because Sam gave it to him. “You know, you’re more than what you seem to be, Dean Winchester.”

“So are you, Emerson Maklen.”

She leaned forward, to reach for his touch again before something came over her. He was a good man. He was leaving. He was going to Afghanistan in three months. She recoiled back to her seat and shoved five cheese covered french fries into her mouth.

 

**-15 Days After-**

 

Emerson looked out the window with her arms crossed. She spent so much time trying to be what she was supposed to be according to other people, according to herself. She went to the college that Ophelia wanted to go to, because they were expected to do everything together. She went to homecoming with Dean, because Pheli wanted her to. She said no to Dean countless times, because he wasn’t _right_ for her. She didn’t even know why she was always resisting. It was fucking exhausting being so self righteous all the time. Being so bottled. The sky shook above them with an angry clap of thunder. She understood how it felt. She wanted to scream, too.

The rain came down a few droplets at first. No one seemed to notice, but Emerson. She noticed. She stepped closer, pressing her gloved hand to the glass on the window. “My god.” She whispered inside of her mask, before turning, and running toward the door.

Her index finger worked its way inside of the glove on her opposite hand, peeling it away. Both were falling to the floor. Her fingers curled under the chin of the gas mask, pulling it up and over her head. It crashed to the floor as she pushed out into the rain.

“Emerson, no!” Dean shouted inside of his mask. The three that were left at the table scurried to their feet, they ran after her only to find her standing in the middle of the cobblestone street, with her face looking toward the sky and her arms open. Clear rain poured over her. _Clear_. She laughed and spun in a circle.

Dean pulled off his own mask, Pheli, and Sam followed.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” She laughed, spinning in circles.

Ophelia didn’t need to be asked twice. She stripped herself out of her jacket and ran into the warm, Summer rain. She locked hands with her sister and they spun around, their hair getting soaked. Emerson pulled her into a hug and ruffled her hair.

“Fuck it.” Sam said, dropping his own mask. He ran into the middle of the two girls, picking Pheli up. He threw her over his shoulder causing her to squeal.

“Come on!” Emerson said, waving for Dean to join them. She looked beautiful in the rain. _“You’re more than what you seem to be, Dean Winchester.”_ She pushed her soaked hair behind her ears, laughing as Pheli kicked barely missing her head. _“You see me, Dean, and I see you.”_ She did see him. She always did. “ _You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”_

So he ran to her. He dropped his fucking gas mask in a puddle and he ran to her, pulling her into his arms. He was always going to run to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Fancy meeting you here.” She murmured, her nose brushing his.

He blinked the rain out of his eyelashes. “Small world.”

“Mhm.” She mumbled before holding the back of his head in her hand, and pulling him closer, closing the space between them. His lips were the way she always expected them to be, soft and warm, despite the cool wetness from the rain. She could feel the surprise in his lips, his mouth opening slightly when her lips pressed to his. Then he smiled, his eyes fluttering closed, and he kissed her back. He put his hands under her thighs, hoisting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his face in her hands.

His scruff scratched against her face but she didn’t care. She was kissing _Dean Winchester_! He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for permission. She opened her lips to let him in. She was letting go. It was raining, and they weren’t burning. They weren’t red. Things were finally looking up.

Pheli smacked Sam’s shoulder when he put her down and they booth applauded. “Fucking finally!” She laughed, wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist.

Emerson pulled back from him, panting, her forehead pressed to his.

“Does this mean you actually like me?” He asked, his shit eating grin taking up most of his face, but his eyes were soft, vulnerable.

“To put it mildly.” She murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

His smile softened, his teeth disappearing under his lips. His eyes closed and he slowly lowered Emerson back to the ground, her feet splashing in the puddle below them. His hands never left her, and she was still pressed against him. She looked up at him with a smile. She never thought she would be one of those girls to kiss in the rain. It seemed more Pheli’s style, but yet. But yet...

“What was that?” Sam asked, turning and squinting into the rain.

It was a miracle that they heard it at all under the roar of the downpour. It was a single groan at first, and sounded a bit like Dean when he was woken up too early. Then it was more like a sea of groans, and foot steps.

“What the...”

They were close enough to be seen then, with their mouths open, and hands gripping, reaching for them. They were soaked, their eyes glowing red in the darkness. People. Twenty of them at least, their skin looked like it was burnt, bubbling and red. Their mouths hung open, their heads titled in curiosity as they walked through the rain, seemingly careless about the water. The first in the group looked up and made eye contact with Emerson. The creature looked like it was once a woman, from her small stature and long stringy hair, but now she was something else all together. She opened her jaw to let out a horrible, blood curdling scream as she pointed a bony, burnt up, fleshy finger at the four of them.

“Run.” Emerson said, as Dean curled his fingers sound hers. “Fucking run!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “We will survive, you and I.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

**  
-15 Days After-**

Dean Winchester was no stranger to violence. To blood. To the chase. His dog tags slapped against his chest as he ran, his eyes always glancing back to make sure Emerson was catching up. He reached out a hand for her, lacing their fingers, he wouldn’t leave her behind.

The rain pelted their hair, the ground. Their feet splashed in the puddles that covered the cobblestone pathway. They hadn’t thought it through, their weapons and supplies were in the diner, far behind them. Dean scanned their surroundings for anywhere to take cover. They came up on the Ferris wheel and he made a split second decision. “Come on!” He shouted, and he began to climb, his hands slick on the metal.

“Dean I don’t know if I can climb that!” Emerson shouted up at him over the downpour.

“Yes you can!” He shouted back, his feet landing on a solid, horizontal piece. He reached a hand down to her, his other hand wrapped around a bar to keep him steady. “‘Mere I got you.”

Sam was doing the same, hoisting himself up high, and reaching out for Pheli’s hand. The creatures groaned behind them.

Emerson met his eyes, squinting in the rain, and she knew that she could trust him. She had no other choice but to trust him. “Alright, okay.”

“Good girl.” He said as their hands clasped together. He lifted her up with one arm, groaning in response. He pulled her against his chest, their lips an inch apart, but it wasn’t the time to be thinking about kissing. “Alright, put your hands in those grips and start to climb, I’ll be right under you.”

“Dean…”

“I won’t let you fall, but we need to get higher. Come on, they’re gaining.”

Emerson nodded, and reached up to put her hand in the dip of the metal. Dean’s hands were around her waist as he hoisted her upwards. They didn’t have time to argue. The groans were getting louder, and she wanted to look back, but she didn’t. She had to believe that they’d be okay.

“See that top seat? That’s what we are going for.”

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.” She said through gritted teeth. _Fuck it’s so slick_. She curled her fingers around the metal and let Dean push her upwards. Her feet landed on a bar, and she made sure she was solid before turning and offering a hand to him.

“Not gonna pull you down.” He grunted before jumping like a fucking mad man, and grabbing the bar. He pulled himself up easily, swinging his legs next to hers. It never occurred to her, before that moment, how strong he really was. She couldn’t see the bulge of his muscle under his canvas jacket, but she knew it must be there. He was a solider, and he probably worked out every day. She swallowed hard. There was so much she still didn’t know, and in the wake of everything, all she could think was that she didn’t want to die before she got to find out.

“Sammy?!” Dean called.

“We’re good.” Sam said, they were about sixteen feet up and still climbing on the opposite side of the wheel. “You?”

“Still good.” Dean shouted with a nod. He turned and caught a glimpse of the hoard coming their way. Groaning bodies, pushing past them at a fast walking pace. They were squeezing into the gate. He quickly assessed the situation. There were twenty-two of them. People, or something that used to be people, covered in melting flesh and pus covered wounds. He watched a man run his arm across a woman, her flesh peeling away like butter. He wanted to throw up, but he swallowed down the bile that came up his throat. It wasn’t the time. One foot in front of the other. He just hoped to hell that they couldn’t climb. “Let’s keep going, Em.”

“Dean I…”

“Hey.” He said, grabbing her face in his hands. She looked fucking terrified. Her brown eyes were wide, her pupils almost taking over the entirety of her iris. Her lips were trembling, and turning blue from the rain. “I’ve got you. You don’t need to be afraid, because I am not letting anything happen to you. No fucking way. I don’t break promises, Em. You know that, don’t you? I’m not losing you today. We have too much catching up to do.”

She sucked in her breath and grabbed the back of his neck to pull his face down to hers and she kissed him, urgently and quick. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He moved his hands to her waist and spun her around. “Grab there.” He instructed, and she followed. One arm up and he lifted her to her next position, then swing up to meet her. They were half way up to the top, and the creatures below were gripping, and climbing over each other, but not making any other progress. Dean made a mental note that they couldn’t problem solve. “Okay, Em, I’m going to push you up, and I need you try to get into the cart, okay?”

She glanced back at him and nodded. “Okay.”

He picked her up, hoisting her upward toward the cart, one hand on her waist and the other under her ass to push her up high enough for her to grab. Emerson’s hands grabbed for the seat, but it was soaked from the rain. She wasn’t able to get a grip, so she slid. Her hands left the seat just as quickly as they were placed there, sending her free falling off the side of the Ferris wheel.

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“So you’re willing to go on the fucking Ferris wheel, but not rollercoasters?”

“It goes in a slow circle, Dean. Yes I’m willing to go on the Ferris wheel.” Emerson narrowed her eyes at him. “Does that mean you won’t go with me?”

“Hey.” He put his hands up in defense. “I never said that.”

“Just checking.” She shot him a wide grin. “Let’s go then.”

They settled into the seat, the lap bar locking across them. Their thighs brushed from the close proximity. They’d been at the park all day, and the sun had finally dipped below the horizon. The stars were coming out like speckled glitter. “Full moon.” Emerson commented.

“Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful. It feels a little hopeful.” She squeezed the bar. She was so fascinated with the sky that she didn’t catch him looking at her.

“Yeah, it is.”

The wheel started to turn, just a bit, to allow the next couple on. Emerson instinctively grabbed Dean’s hand. “Sorry.” She said with a quick exhale as she released his hand. “Still a little jumpy from the roller coaster.”

“It’s okay.”

“You seem quiet.”

“Nah. Just enjoying the view.” He said, his tongue shooting out to wet his bottom lip.

“It’s a good one, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

The wheel turned, but this time she kept her hands to herself as they went toward the sky. The higher they went, the more they could see. All of Happy Fun Land. The ocean in the distance, dark and tempting. It felt like they were the only two people in the world. “Do you know your deployment date yet?”

“Nah. I go to MEPS in about a month to get checked out and then they’ll let me know. By the end of the Summer at the soonest. Then I have Basic…then I don’t know. I may just stay on a base. There’s really no telling until after Basic.”

“Are you scared?”

Dean smiled a bit and turned to her. “What do I have to be afraid of, Em?”

“Saying goodbye?”

“We all say goodbye at some point. It’s just a part of life.”

“How insightful.”

“You’re young.” Dean said, quietly. “You’ll see.”

“You’re not that much older than me, Dean. You know that, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t sayin…”

“You were, and it was condescending.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

“If I’m such a child then why do you always want to hang out with me?”

“You aren’t a child.”

“Just immature? That’s a lot, coming from you.”

“Christ, why are we fighting right now?”

Emerson crossed her arms and looked back out to the park. She watched the rides light up, the rollercoasters spin in the darkness. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I know we aren’t friends, Dean.”

“We aren’t?” He chuckled. “Then what are we, Maklen?”

She turned toward him. “Two people. If it weren’t for Sam and Phel we wouldn’t hang out. You know that.”

“You don’t think we would?”

She pushed her hair behind her ear, and looked up at him.  She could see the reflection of the moon in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

“You’re pretty blind, aren’t ya?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve always been lookin at ya, Em. I’d be an idiot not to.”

 

**-15 Days After-**

 

Dean reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his own foot slipping, causing his head to hit the bar behind him as he pulled her against him. Her scream was muffled by Dean pressing her face into his chest. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Em.” He mumbled, his lips and hands in her hair.

“Em!” Pheli shouted.

He could feel Emerson against his chest, calming down, before she pulled back to yell at Pheli. “I’m okay, Phel!” Sam had his arm wrapped around her; they were already secured in their seats.

“Hey.” Dean whispered, looking down at her.

They’d been up on the wheel for only a matter of minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

“Dean.” She whispered.

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You hold on here, I’m going to go up to the seat and pull you up. Okay?”

“Is your head okay?” She moved her hand to the back of his head where it hit the bar. Her fingers came back tinted red with his blood.

“Don’t worry about me. Just hold on here, okay?”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around the bar, feeling the absence of him immediately. He reached up and grabbed the lap bar, the seat groaning and swinging in response. He pulled himself up and over, sliding his legs in place. He reached out a hand for her, swinging the seat down.

“Come on, Sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

She closed her eyes for a second. All the times that he swung over to her roof came to her mind. _“You look lonely, Em.”_ How did he know? He always said the exact wrong thing. He always said the exact right thing. His hand extended to hers, wet from the rain. His fingers reached as far as they could, his face serious. He was Dean Winchester. He was the bad boy. The guy that left. He was the thought on her mind as she laid alone in her dorm room, staring out the window at the moon as it grew in the sky. She opened her eyes and he was there, like he had been until the night he left. She settled her feet and pushed off, reaching her hands out for his. Her fingers curled around his forearm. He held onto her with his free hand and pulled her up and over the bar. She settled in next to him, but she didn’t let go. “What now?” She asked, her voice small.

“Still got your gun?” He asked, pulling his off the holster on his thigh.

“Yeah.”

“Seen The Walking Dead?”

“I have.”

“Let’s try for a headshot.” He grinned, taking off the safety. “Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Got your gun?”

“I do.” Sam shouted back.

“You were always good at Call of Duty. Put those skills to use.”

 _Bang_. One down. Right between it’s eyes. Dean was a killer shot, but that was no real surprise.

Emerson held her own gun in her hand. 

“Watch out for the recoil.” He said gently. “It’s a bitch.”

She nodded and closed one eye. _Bang_. Her shoulder shot back, hitting the back of the seat. “Shit.” She mumbled. No dice. She missed.

Sam took out two. Pheli’s eyes were buried in her hands. She hated guns and violence, and if Emerson could guess, that would be the last time they went to Happy Fun Land.

“I got it.” Dean said with a smile, as he patted her thigh. “Don’t worry.” He focused then, his jaw tight and his eyes unwavering. _Bang. Bang. Bang._

Emerson watched the creatures fall over each other, pushing the fallen out of the way. Their mouths opened, showing black and rotting teeth. Their eyes were hollowed and dark under red blistering skin. One grabbed another, trying to climb over, its mouth biting at nothing. They were starving.

It wasn’t long before they were all picked off, but Sam and Dean used all the rounds in their guns. Sam missed a few, and there were a hand full that didn’t go down with one shot. It wasn’t until the final one fell that Emerson let herself lose it. The tears stung her eyes and she felt a burning in the back of her throat. “Em?” Dean asked, alarmed.

He wrapped his arms around her before she could collapse. “Shh, I got you.”

“What the fuck, Dean? What the actual fuck?” She was sobbing, snot and all. “Everything is falling apart.”

“I know.” He whispered into her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“We could’ve died.”

“We didn’t.”

“How are we going to survive this? A bomb went off... a fucking... bomb.” She was starting to hyperventilate, her heart rate was through the roof.

“Listen to me, Emerson. You need to breathe. Look at me.”

She followed his instruction, meeting his green eyes, that looked more grey against the rainy sky. A drop fell off his nose, his eyelashes littered with pockets of water. “Breathe in.” She did. “Breathe out.” She did.

They breathed like that for what seemed like an eternity, their eyes locked. She breathed in when he did and out when he did. After a dozen breaths she was feeling a little better, a little more centered. She didn’t have a lot of breakdowns. She kept herself tightly coiled, but eventually everything comes undone. It always does.

“We kissed.” She said with her last exhale.

“We did.”

“Twice.”

“Want to take it back?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” He smiled a bit in the rain. “Just took the fucking end of the world.”

“It can’t be the end of the world.” She gasped, feeling her heart start to race again. Her jaw trembled.

“Are you cold?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“Here.” He shrugged out of his wet canvas jacket, and draped it over her shoulders.

“You’re going to freeze.” She commented, eyeing his t-shirt.

“I’ve been colder.” He promised, wrapping an arm around her. “I’d like to kiss you again. Maybe when we aren’t running for our lives.”

“You may be waiting a while.”

“Emerson Maklen.” He laughed and shook his head. “What have I done, after all this time, that would make you think I wouldn’t wait for you?”

She looked up at him and cupped his cheek in her hand. “You know, I was thinking the same thing.”

 

_Later that night_

 

They found a place to camp. A nurses office that seemed more like a waiting area for people who got injured or sick on the rides. There were a couple of single beds that had a blanket and a pillow. They’d all changed into dry clothes and were settling in.

“Sam and I are going to do a perimeter check.” He said, sliding his clip on his gun into place. “You girls get some rest.”

“You won’t be gone long?” Pheli asked, mid braid, looking up at Sam with wide eyes.

“You won’t even have time to miss me.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting. I don’t think I can sleep without you.”

“Try.” Sam smiled down at her before he nodded to Dean. They walked out the door, letting it click behind them.

Emerson ran her fingers through her own hair, it was finally drying, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it looked like. “You okay?” She asked Pheli.

“I... I don’t know, Em, honestly. Probably not so much.” She forced a smile. “This is crazy. I feel like it’s a bad dream.”

“Me too.”

“And not to be totally... well, me.”

“What are you talking about?” Emerson sat down on the bed opposite to Pheli and pulled her knees to her chest.

“You kissed him.”

She wiped her cheeks as if it would make the growing blush disappear. “I... I did.”

“Finally! How do you feel?”

“This is really what you want to talk about right now?

“Opposed to zombies? Fuck yes.” Ophelia said, tying her braid at the bottom. “You kissed Dean Winchester!”

“Twice.” Emerson exhaled with a smile.

“Oh my god! For the first time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This is fucking wild. I mean, the apocalypse is terrifying, but this is crazy. I never thought this would happen.”

“You practically shoved us together every chance you got.”

“Yeah, but you’re like an old maid. I never thought you’d give in! Even though you’re perfect for each other.”

“Phel, listen...”

“Don’t do it! Don’t say what you’re going to say.” Pheli begged. She literally begged, with her hands clasped together up on her knees.

“What am I going to say?”

“That it was a one time thing. It wouldn’t happen again. It was a fluke.”

“It wasn’t a fluke.”

“What?”

“I like him. I think I’ve always liked him, and I definitely want to kiss him again.”

Ophelia flew across the room, throwing her arms around Emerson’s neck. “I can’t believe this! You’re falling in love!”

“Don’t be extreme.” Emerson laughed, but maybe she was. Maybe she always had been. Falling in love with Dean Winchester felt taboo, especially given the circumstances, but maybe that was exactly why it was the right time. Maybe they needed death to stare them in the face to get over themselves. Or maybe she was just finally able to admit that she didn’t want to die alone.

 

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“So,” Dean began, awkwardly. Sam had walked Pheli to the door, but Dean and Emerson stayed, leaning against the Impala to give their siblings some space. “Tonight was fun.”

“It was.” Emerson agreed.

“Ah, she finally admits it.” He laughed. “Thought we were gonna have to torture some fun out of you.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Be careful or I’ll take it back.”

“Take it back, but I’ll know the truth.” He bumped against her gently. “You had fun. You had fun with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, throw a goddamn parade.”

“Maybe I will.”

“That I’d like to see.”

“Em?” He glanced at her.

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I am scared.” He admitted. “Scared of sayin goodbye. To Sammy, to you... I... Shit. Maybe it makes me look like a girl, but I’m gonna think about today for a long time. Gonna keep it close, because shit’s gonna suck in Basic. I already know that.”

“You’re brave, Dean.” She met his eyes. “But you don’t have to worry about saying goodbye to me. We aren’t going to say goodbye.”

“We aren’t?”

“No.” She smiled a bit. “We will see each other again. You’ll live to annoy me another day.”

“Now there’s something to look forward to.”

“Yeah, keep that in your pocket.” She patted his chest, above his heart. “Keep it close.”

“I will.” He promised, as he pushed a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, Emerson.”

“Night, Dean.”

He watched her walk away, across his yard, into hers. He couldn’t imagine the ache that he would feel saying goodbye to her, because fuck, the one he got when she walked away burned. His chest pulled to her. He would keep her with him more than she would know and more than he would ever admit. Emerson was like a beacon. She was the North Star, and as he would learn in Basic Training, he could always use the North Star to find his way home.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I know you. In my heart, I know you very well.” - Peter Constantine

**-15 Days After-**

 

“So, _Emerson_.” Sam said quietly, his gun up as they secured the perimeter of the nursing station.

“What about her?”

Sam raised an eyebrow and laughed lightly. “You kissed her.”

“She kissed me, technically.”

“Right.” They walked around the corner. “So do you…. like her?”

Dean glanced both ways before waving Sam forward. “Why’re you askin me questions that you already know the answer to?”

“Just want to hear you say it.” Sam grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes as they circled around the last section of the building. “Clear.” He said with a nod. “Yeah, man, I like her. Okay? Always have.”

“Fuck, I knew it!”

“Proud of yourself?”

“Immensely.”

Dean lowered himself to a seated position. It had finally stopped raining, and the clouds were parting to a clear, starless night sky. Sam sat next to his brother. “You don’t seem like you’re jumping for joy. What’s wrong?”

“I just feel like she’s only giving in because shit’s going to hell, and I’m here. Not that I blame her.”

“You really think that?”

“Why not?” Dean asked, checking the rounds in his gun. “She’s never been interested in me.”

“Are you fucking blind, dude?”

“What?”

“You should’ve seen her in college. Did you know that she never dated?”

“I didn’t know… why?”

“Why do you think, dude? It’s you.”

“I never asked her to do that.”

Sam turned to his older brother. “You didn’t have to.”

“She was supposed to go to Scotland for college, did you know that?”

“No. Phel never mentioned it.”

“I don’t think she knows. Em didn’t go because she was convinced that Pheli needed her. She’s always doing shit that she thinks is right even when it isn’t.”

“Who does that sound like?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean grumbled, resting his head against the building. It throbbed gently in response from where he hit it earlier.

“You’re worried that she’s being with you because it’s what she thinks is the right thing?”

“I don’t know, man. Kind of.”

“What about what you want?”

Dean looked at the star sky thoughtfully, trying to pull it all together. Trying to figure out the words to say. How could he describe to Sam what he was feeling? It wasn’t like how it was with him and Ophelia. It wasn’t simple or easy. Emerson was complicated, like an aged scotch. She was full of snark, and she challenged him more than anyone had ever challenged him in his life. What were the words that said he wanted to hold her hand, or watch her wake up in the morning all sleepy? He wanted to talk to her under the stars. He wanted to kiss her a million more times. He wanted to find heaven. “I want to be with her.” He said finally, but even that wasn’t enough.

“So why don’t you give her some credit and believe what she’s saying to you?”

“I guess I just don’t feel like I’m good enough.”

Sam smiled and slapped his brothers shoulder. “I’m sure she doesn’t think that, but if _you_ do… well then I guess you should just try to prove it wrong. Prove you are good enough. Spend every day making yourself worthy. That’s what I do with Phel, and it’s worked so far.”

Dean grunted in response and raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you the one giving me advice? The world must be ending.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughed and glanced up at the sky. “Speaking of that… what are we gonna do, man? Those things today? Are they just gonna be running around? Because we don’t have that many rounds.”

“I know.” He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have a bad feeling that this is just the beginning.”

“So what’s the plan? I think we need one before we go back and face those two. You know they’re gonna want to know.”

He did. There was no way Emerson would be able to just be along for the ride. It wasn’t her style. He rubbed his face. Only one thing came to mind, and he wasn’t sure if it was the right answer. It was a fucking long shot at best, but it was all they had. “Alright, fuck. So when I was in Afghanistan some of the guys, and I made a pact.”

“A pact?”

“We decided that if shit went dark that we would all meet up. Hold up together.”

“Did you think this could happen?”

“Not _this_ exactly, but shit was bad over there, Sammy. It was hard not to worry about it happening here.”

“You never talk about it.”

“I don’t like to think about it.” Dean sighed.

“You think this is our best bet?”

“Right now? I think it’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll go. We will head out in the morning.” Sam said, standing up. He offered a hand to Dean. “We should get some sleep, too. We can barricade the door.”

“Right.” Dean said, taking his brothers hand. He let Sam pull him up, and they walked back into the nursing area. The girls were each on a bed, cuddled under the single blanket. Sam walked right to Pheli, sliding off his shoes and he slid in behind her, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her neck.

Dean looked at Emerson. She was asleep and damn it if she didn’t look peaceful. In another life he could picture himself seeing her like that in the morning. He would get up early and make her breakfast in bed. Coffee just the way she liked it. He made a mental note to ask her how she liked it.

He looked at the ground, and was about to settle in when Sam’s words echoed in his mind. _“Why do you think, dude? It’s you.”_ Her back was against the wall, leaving him just enough room to lay on the edge of the bed facing her. He lowered himself down, leaving his shoes on in case they needed to make a quick escape. His nose brushed hers and she groaned in her sleep.

She opened an eye and met his in the darkness. “Is everything okay?” She whispered.

“Yeah.” He whispered back. He rested an arm on her waist, and he waited expectantly, for her to push him away. She didn’t. She snuggled closer.

“Okay.” She breathed, resting her face against his chest. He could feel his heart pounding, and he was sure that she could feel it, too. “Are you okay?”

“Right now? I am.”

“Get some sleep, Dean.”

“You’re not my boss, Maklen.” He teased, his lips against her hair.

“Feel like a big boy telling your big boy lies? I’m the boss, and I always have been. Now go the fuck to sleep.” She yawned, closing her eyes.

“Yes ‘mam.” He said, but he didn’t sleep a wink.

 

**-18 Days After-**

 

They were in the car for days, driving toward the check point that Dean mentioned. During the drive the boys often got out of the car, siphoned gas out of other cars that had been abandoned on the highway, the keys still in the ignition. Dean refused to abandon the Impala. So they’d get in the cars and pushed them out of the way and into the ditch. The same with the rotting, broken bodies on the street, but there weren’t many of them. It made Emerson’s skin crawl thinking about where they all went. It was the middle of nowhere and no one could’ve survived the rain. Maybe it didn’t reach that far. Maybe they got out. It was her only hope.

They were down to the last bit of food that they’d found along the way, packed in cars. Someone must’ve gotten out because the food was far and few between.

The last time they were out of the car Sam moved to the backseat so Pheli could sleep on his chest. Emerson figured that he just missed touching her. She moved to the front seat and was lulled to sleep by the endless road and the quiet sound of rock on the radio. She didn’t realize that her head was on Deans shoulder, his arm around her shoulder.

In that moment things were quiet. They were peaceful, but it didn’t last long. It couldn’t. Not in the world they were driving toward.

“Fuck.” Dean mumbled as he put the Impala in park.

“What’s going on?” Emerson asked with a yawn. She sat up completely and got a good look at the road ahead of her. “Oh no.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

The highway was full of cars. Hundreds at least, were all piled up and abandoned. One after another, like a rush hour traffic jam that never moved. The cars looked off from the blood rain, rusted and a little warped. The Impala was even looking worse for it, and Dean wasn’t happy about it, but there wasn’t time to cry and scream. So he didn’t. Not yet at least.

It felt empty, and hollow. A world void of lives. Void of other people. “Do you think they found what they were looking for?” Emerson asked, quietly.

“I don’t know, Em.” Dean admitted quietly. “But it doesn’t look good.”

Emerson forced a smile, and wished to all hell that he would’ve lied to her, she supposed that she should’ve woken up Pheli if she wanted some glowing positivity, but maybe it was too late for that, too.  

“Where’s the check point?” Sam asked.

“Right outside of the city.”

“So we have to go through.” Emerson said through gritted teeth.

“Looks like it.”

“Guess we are walking, wake up my sister.” Emerson said, flinging the door open. She needed some air. She walked out to the edge of the highway and lowered herself to a seated position on the asphalt. She picked at the red grass at her ankles.

“Hey, you good?” Dean sat next to her. _Damn, he didn’t waste any time._

“Yet to be determined.”

He put his finger under her chin and turned her face toward him. “Hey, look at me.”

“Hmm.” She could see every freckle on his face. The golden flecks in his eyes. He looked thin, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

“I’ve got you, Maklen.”

“I know you do.”

“Do you wanna kiss me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Kind of.” She smiled slightly, her eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Do it.” He held her face and pulled her lips to his in a soft kiss.

Somehow things felt a little better when they were so close. Emerson pulled back from him a little and pressed her forehead to his. “What happened to not kissing until the world wasn’t imploding?”

“The world seems pretty quiet now.”

How could she argue with that logic? With his eyelashes fluttering and his bottom lip poking out. He was handsome, and she spent so much time thinking about him. So much time trying not to think about him, and there he was. Next to her. “It does.”

 

**-4 Years Before-**

 

“Merry Christmas.” Dean said as the Maklen front door clicked shut.

“Who was that?” Ophelia called from the kitchen. She was icing cookies while Jana sat in the rocking chair that the girls had placed in the kitchen. Even though she wasn’t getting around so well, she was still able to boss them around while they baked the Christmas cookies.

“Solicitation.” Emerson called back. She rested her back against the door. Dean Winchester was at her house. _After all of this time. He’s back. He’s back and he’s safe._

“Will you come help me?” Pheli called again. “Moms being a nightmare.”

“You’re the nightmare, Ophelia!” Jana groaned.

Emerson laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

“I’ve got the buttercream made.” Pheli said, holding up the icing covered spoon.

“Make sure that it isn’t too sweet.” Their mother said as she waved a hand toward Ophelia.

“I will.” Emerson said, approaching the bowl. She stuck her finger in it and licked the icing off of it. She made a face. “Way too sweet.”

“Oh come on! You two don’t like it sweet enough.” Pheli grabbed the bowl away from Emerson. “You don’t deserve my icing.” She pulled the spoon out of the icing and put it directly into her mouth.

“You’re sick.”

“No way. It’s delicious.”

“We need to start over. Grab the extra powdered sugar from the garage, and I’ll get the food coloring.”

“Fine.”

“Emerson, honey come here.” Jana waved her over.

“What’s up, Mom?” She walked to her mom.

“Closer.”

Emerson leaned closer to her moms face.

“Did I hear that handsome Dean Winchester at the door?” She whispered against her daughters ear.

“Mom!”

“Well he was there, wasn’t he?”

“He was.” Emerson agreed.

“What do you feel? Do you want to talk to him?”

“He’s on leave from the military, Mom. He’s leaving again. I don’t think it matters what I want.”

“Did he look good?”

Emerson smiled to herself. “He did. Different.”

“Okay I got the powdered sugar. Why do we have so much in the garage?”

“Big sale.” Jana grinned.

“You’re not allowed to go shopping anymore, missy.” Ophelia said with a wink.

Emerson laughed and turned toward the sink to grab the food coloring. Large snowflakes were floating down from the sky outside her window. Past the flakes, her eyes caught Dean leaning up against the outside of his house smoking. He was still in his uniform. She glanced down at the food coloring and grabbed it, sliding it in her pocket. “Hey, looks like we are out of food coloring. I’ll go get some.”

“We’re out? I thought we still had some there…”

“Nope.” Emerson cut her sister off. “We are all out. I’ll be back soon. Go easy on the sugar, Sweets.”

The air was cold, and Emerson pulled her coat together as she crossed the yard. “Hey Winchester.”

“Who, me?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes you.” She crossed her arms as she approached him.

“Well, color me surprised. Emerson Maklen wants to talk to me.”

“Guess that was a mistake.” She turned to leave, but he reached for her.

“Hey, it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Oh, it wasn’t?”

“No.” Dean smiled softly, his cigarette burning in his fingers. “I’m glad you came over here.”

“Don’t speak too soon, I may be here to yell.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” Her eyes flickered to his. The snow was picking up, and against the white flakes his eyes looked even greener. “No. How are you?”

“I’m…” His mouth hung there like he wanted to say something that was getting caught in his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Good.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, too.” She offered him a weak smile.

“You look cold.”

“Right back atcha.”

“Em I…” He reached for her hand and she backed away.

“I think you’re right. This was a mistake… I’ll uh… have a good Christmas.” Emerson turned on her heels and jogged back to her house ignoring him calling after her. She entered the front door to her house, her heart racing. Why did she go over there? Wasn’t the last time she saw him enough? Didn’t she learn?

“Em is that you?”

“Yeah Phel it’s me!”

“That was fast.”

Emerson pulled the tubes of food coloring out of her pocket and stared at them. She rolled them in her hands. “I was wrong. We had what we needed here all along.”

 

**-18 Days After-**

 

“Alright, we’ve got the packs! You two lovebirds ready to go?”

“God, lovebirds? From Phel? I think it’s time we reassess.” Emerson laughed lightly, as she stood up.

“Definitely.” Dean laughed and offered her a hand and she took it reluctantly. There was a lot that was still unsaid between them, but she took his hand anyway.

The Winchesters stood between the Maklen twins with their bags flung over their shoulders. They only had enough that they could carry into the city. “Baby, I’ll be back for you.” Dean promised the Impala.

“Maybe there will be more people in the city.” Pheli said. Her voice was characteristically hopeful, as she pushed a braid off her shoulder. “Maybe things will be good here. They have to be, right?”

“Right.” Sam said, giving her hand a squeeze, but his eyes were on Dean’s, and they were less than believable.

“Alright ladies, I hope you wore your walking shoes. And yes, I am talking to you Sammy.”

“Shit, should I put my high heels away?” Sam asked with a dramatic gasp.

“To the debutant ball with you.” Emerson joked weakly.

They were all hanging on by a thread, but together they walked forward, between the cars and on toward the city. Toward Dallas, where the buildings reached toward the sky, still perfectly in tact, at least from that distance.

“Maybe we should play a game?” Ophelia offered.

“Like what?” Dean asked, sounding half curious.

“I don’t know. Two truths and a lie?”

“We won’t get far with that.” Emerson laughed. “I know everything about you, and the two of them know everything about each other.”

“Never have I ever?”

“Without alcohol?” Dean laughed. “No thanks.”

“You guys are no fun.” Pheli pouted.

“How about twenty questions?” Sam offered to Ophelia.

Her eyes darted between the group. No one had any immediate arguments against it, so she cleared her throat. “Okay, I’ve thought of something. Who has the first question?”

“Is it alive?” Sam asked.

Ophelia grinned widely at him. “Let’s say… for now, for arguments sake that it is.”

“For arguments sake?”

“Yes, Samuel, it’s alive. What’s the next question?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging on you guys! I am loving the comments, they seriously give me life. I know this was a quick update, but I can’t get my hands to stop! It’s all flowing so fast. I just wanted to stop for a second and say a big thank you for all of you that are reading and sticking around. I’m really enjoying writing this! :) 
> 
> If you feel like screaming at me HMU on Tumblr @themoonandotherslikeit I don’t bite unless you ask me too :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic parental abuse. If this is too much for you skip the 15 years ago flash back, I will put a summary in the end notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “My only relief is to sleep. When I’m sleeping, I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m not lonely, I’m nothing.” – Jillian Medoff

**-18 Days After-**

 

What does it mean to be alive? Was it the sweaty feeling of Emerson Maklen’s fingers inside of Deans? Was it the ache in his leg from war, which still hurt after a long drive, or before the rain fell? Was it the sound of Pheli and Sam’s rapid fire guesses on twenty questions? Was it the fresh air and blood that pumped through Dean Winchester that kept him moving? What did it mean? The questions were the same that plagued him his whole life. 

Why was his father so cruel? Why wasn’t Dean the smart one? Why couldn’t he ever be fucking good enough, no matter how hard he tried? He glanced at Emerson who was laughing at something that Ophelia had said. Emerson Maklen, the girl that he never thought he would deserve.

He remembered watching her, curled up on the porch swing working on her homework. She looked studious. She worked hard. She was beautiful with her study glasses sliding down her nose and her blonde hair falling into her face. She was effortless, unlike her sister who put in endless effort in her style and makeup. Emerson was unlike anyone he had ever met.

“Do I have something on my face? Dean I swear to god…”

“Nah, nothin like that.” He said with a shrug. If he hadn’t been staring at her mouth he may have missed her statement all together.

He didn’t want to introduce her to his war buddies. His memories of them were all dirt, dicks, and filthy jokes. _“Got a girl back home, Winchester?”_ He would shake his head, _no_ , because he didn’t. But more than anything he said no, because he saw the way the guys dug into Garth about his lady. Asked how fuckable she was. Asked to borrow a photo. He couldn’t imagine them getting their cum covered hands all over one of Emerson. _No fucking way_ , he was keeping that to himself. Not that he had one to show, anyway.

“That’s reassuring.” She said, wiping at her face anyway.

Growing up, their father always said that life was war. There was always something to fight for and someone to fight against. Dean just didn’t think John got the message that he wasn’t supposed to fight against his children. That beating his own pain out of his fists wouldn’t solve any of his problems, just create new ones. It was easier to blame John for all of his issues. There was no way around the fact that John was ten shades of fucked up. His time in the marines had done him over. More so than just making him a _yes sir, no sir_ kind of man. He was jumpy. He was cruel, and he was paranoid.

**-15 Years Before-**

 

One night Dean woke up to John shaking him. His strong hands were on Dean’s shoulders. “Wake up son, wake up!”

“What? What’s goin on? Dad?”

John’s eyes were bloodshot. “Get up.” He grabbed the comforter in his hands and threw it off the side of his bed. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

John grabbed ahold of his sons arm and pulled him along with him. He pulled his son down the stairs and out into the back yard. There was madness in his eyes, and Dean noticed for the first time that John’s feet and hands were covered in dirt. He was holding a garden shovel. “What is this?”

They loomed over a large hole in the ground. It was the length of the shovel and only a few feet wide, not much wider than John’s shoulders. “Get in.” He said hurriedly.

“What?”

“Get in the fucking hole, son!”

“Dad I…”

“That’s an order!”

“Yes sir.” Dean squeaked. John gripped the shovel in his hands again. He was white knuckled against the wood, and as Dean talked back he watched the shovel rise higher in the air. John would kill him if he hit Dean with the shovel. Dean knew that, so he complied, and climbed into the hole. He sat at the edge of the hole and dropped himself into it. His bare feet hit wood at the bottom of the hole. There was a box. It was crudely put together, and when Dean turned his foot caught a loose nail causing him.

“Sit down boy.”

“Yes sir.” He followed instructions, lowering himself to a seated position.

“This is important soldier so listen… listen… do you hear me?” He was rambling, pacing back and forth. He held the shovel like a gun.

Dean felt blood trickle out of his foot and his palms started to sweat. He couldn’t call out for his mother without being reprimanded or injured. Plus, there was a huge risk that John would shove his wife into the hole right next to their son. Or Sammy. Dean couldn’t risk it. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his hands from shaking. He had to be strong.

“They could come for you. They will come for you at some point. Who knows what kind of torture they’ll put you through. Bamboo under your nails, cuts, or they could bury you alive. I can’t have you tellin secrets to the enemy. Do you understand? I need you to be able to get yourself out. To not be afraid. Lay down.”

His back scraped against the wood, against the nails and he bit down on his tongue so he wouldn’t cry out in pain. He couldn’t make John angrier.

“Shut the lid.”

He couldn’t make his arms move, they were made of concrete, stones, they were heavy and stuck to his sides. He was shaking more now despite the sticky humidity of the Summer night air. “I won’t be able to get out.” He whispered.

“If you have the will to live you will. It is amazing what the human body can do. You’ll see. I made the boards loose. I won’t pack down the dirt. It will be easy the first time.” _The first time._

Dean couldn’t do it. He started to cry. He knew that John always hit him for that. _Men don’t cry_. But he wasn’t a man, he was a twelve year old boy who needed to not die alone in a damp fucking hole.

“Shut the fucking lid!” John’s voice was enough to startle Dean out of his tears. He grabbed the lid and allowed it to fall shut above him. Everything was dark. All he could hear was his heavy breathing and the pitter patter of dirt falling on top of the make shift casket.

He was going to die before he ever made it to high school. He was going to suffocate before he ever kissed a girl. He couldn’t remember the last thing he said to his Mom or Sammy. Sammy. Who would protect his brother if he was dead? He started to scream, finding his voice again. He could take whatever John threw at him, but damn it, he had to be alive to take the punishment. He clawed at the lid, trying to break through, but his fingers were weak from fear and sleep. His nails broke and blood ran down his fingers. He kicked at the lid and screamed louder. It felt disjointed, like he was watching himself from above. Maybe he was dead already, just replaying the moments before his lung filled with dirt, and the worms buried deep into his skin. “Help!”

More dirt. More blackness. Pieces of dirt and rock fell between the cracks of the pieces of wood. He felt around for the nail that cut him down by his feet. It caught his already bloodied fingers and he pulled. He pulled and yanked. Maybe if he could get it out of its place and break through the lid. His fingers were wet from blood. The nail kept slipping out of his grip. He couldn’t get it. Tears soaked his face. Dirt fell into his open mouth as he screamed for help. He coughed at the dirt in his throat. He screamed and screamed, his arms finally giving up. He had no more in him. Nothing left. No more energy to claw at the lid of the box. He was a shell. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I am so sorry.”

It felt like an eternity before the lid opened again. His mother leaned over the box in her white nightgown, covered in dirt. “Oh _Dean!_ ” She screamed, pulling him out of the box and against her. She was sobbing and he could faintly hear his father murmuring in the background.

“I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t… Dean is okay. He is okay. I’m sorry.” He was crying, as if the motherfucker deserved to cry. As if he deserved the sympathy. As if he was the one hurt.

It was the last straw. At least for a little while.

 

**-18 Days After-**

 

Dean never intended to be like his father. John had court mandated therapy after the incident, and they never spoke of it again. Dean didn’t sleep for a week until he started sneaking his father’s whiskey. It would knock him right out. Just a few sips and he was sleeping, dreamless. They never told Sam. Deans many wounds from being inside the box were blamed on a fight at school. It was easier than explaining the truth.  Dean was always getting into trouble, after all.

He didn’t want Afghanistan to fuck him up, but he didn’t always get what he wanted. Frankly, he rarely did. It just wasn’t in the cards for a guy like him.

“Is it a giraffe?” Sam asked Ophelia, looking serious.

“No! Try again!”

“Damn it. You’re cheating, you have to be.”

“I’m not!”

“Dean are you okay?” Emerson whispered to him as his fingers tightened around hers. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”

“I’d like to be somewhere else.” He said quietly. He didn’t mean her. Of course he didn’t, but she looked away nonetheless. He didn’t tug her hand back, because his mind was still swimming. He was walking toward that past that he worked so hard to put behind him. The past that Lisa helped bury, and this time she wasn’t there to do the heavy lifting. He couldn’t expect Emerson to do that for him. it would be too much. It was too much the first time, and this time he knew better.

“I think,” Pheli said, hopping up on the median that separated the two highways. They were close to the city at that point, within a quick sprint of down town. “That you’re really bad at this. Maybe you don’t know me at all Sam… maybe.”

She slipped. At least that’s what it looked like at first. The others didn’t see the red blistering fingers reach up from the other side of the median. They wrapped around her ankle and yanked hard, sending her falling over the median to the other side of the highway. “Phel you klutz.” Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“Sam!” She screamed in response. It wasn’t out of anger, or pain. It was fear.

“Phel?” Sam called, hopping up on the median. “Shit, Dean!” He shouted before jumping down.

There was a creature. Once a man, but now he looked more like what he would expect a man that went through a garbage disposal to look like. Its skin was red and limp, falling off of its face as Pheli scratched at him, screaming at the top of her lungs. Its black teeth were biting lazily at her, its white eyes were hazy with no life left in them. Its legs were broken in an awful way that kept it from standing, like maybe it had been ran over by a car. That didn’t stop it from crawling and grabbing at Ophelia with its bony, fleshless fingers.

She kicked at it, her boots slushing in the wet skin. It peeled away with the lightest touch. Both of her hands were on its shoulders holding it at bay, just out of biting distance. They didn’t know if the bites would do anything worse than a normal bite, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Sam’s feet landed on the asphalt. He grabbed the creature by the shirt and yanked it away from Pheli. He pulled out his gun as quickly as he could and pressed it to the back of the creatures head. He pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet echoed, cutting through the still air. 

Ophelia didn’t stop screaming until Sam pulled her into his arms, the body of the creature was disposed in a crumple on the ground, its face blown away. Ophelia’s face and clothes were splattered with the dark blood of the creature.

“Hey, I’ve got you.” Sam promised.

It was all so fast. By the time Emerson got over the median it was over. She ran and crouched to her sisters side. Ophelia turned to Emerson and hugged her. “I thought I was going to die.” She cried into Emerson’s shoulder.

She held her sister tight. “I won’t let you die. Not like this. We die together, remember? It’ll just be you and me. We will die on the same day. Today isn’t that day.”

“Today isn’t that day.” Ophelia was slowing down on her tears, matching her twins breathing.

“That’s right. Today isn’t that day.” Emerson repeated, pulling back so she could wipe the blood away from her sisters mouth and eyes. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She repeated. “We are okay.”

But they weren’t okay.

“Ladies, not to break this up but we need to go.” Dean said, his thumb gesturing toward the city.

The gun shot must have alerted them. “Shit, Phel get up.”

“What?” Her eyes were still full of tears.

“Get up now, we have to run!” Emerson said as her eyes caught a hoard of creatures making their way through the cars. She couldn’t count, there were so many they were pushing together and climbing over the cars.

Emerson pulled up her sister and Pheli cried out in pain when she pressed on the ankle that the creature had grabbed. “Shit, you good?” Dean asked.

“No… I…”

“Come on.” Sam said crouching so Pheli could climb into his back. Sam gripped her legs, while Dean and Em grabbed their bags. “We need to go.”

They ran. Thankfully Sam had long legs so he was able to keep up. Emerson knew that Dean was going slower on her account. He was always a good runner. She remembered him jogging around the neighborhood before he deployed. He would make effortless laps through the streets for a good hour or two.  

The group ran on the emptier side of the highway, the creatures noticing the rapid slaps of their feet on the concrete. They drug themselves toward the median, up and over. Their groans and screams filled the empty air, the sound of flesh sloshing off of skin, and the sound of shoes gaining on them. Dozens of feet hitting the asphalt. The group didn’t have advantage this time. They weren’t on high ground. They were surrounded.

“Toward the city!” Dean instructed. “We need to get inside, out of view.”

They pushed forward, Emerson felt a pair of fingers brush her back and she pushed forward faster. The creatures climbed over to her right, falling over the median, some falling right at her feet. She jumped over them, and fuck she didn’t even know she could jump like that. They bit at her like the plants from the old Super Mario game. She jumped, and they reached for her. One slip up and she was down. The brothers couldn’t stop for her if she fucked up. They’d have to go on, and leave her to be dinner, or whatever the creatures wanted from her.

Entering the city felt like jumping over a line into another world. The tall buildings hovered over down town. It looked so much worse close up. The doors were boarded up. Spray paint covered the windows and walls. Cars were abandoned, trash everywhere, and bodies feasted upon in the streets.

Dean turned for a place to hide and in the pivot his knee twisted. “Fuck.” He said automatically as he fell to the ground. Pain burned and shot up through his leg. Sam didn’t notice his brother fall and he and Pheli were at doors, trying to bust them down.

“Shit, are you okay?” Emerson immediately crouched next to Dean.

“No I…”

More groans. The squish of hurried flesh. They were close.

“Come on, get up.” Emerson reached through his arm and tried to help him up. He got steady, but the moment he put any pressure on his bad knee he collapsed back into a ball at her feet. “Dean…”

“I can’t. Fuck.” He reached for his thigh and unholstered his gun. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily. “Go.”

“Yeah right.” She frowned, and stood over him, clicking the safety off the gun. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Yeah, back atcha.”

“I’m hurt. I’m a liability.” Dean insisted. He knew how bad his knee was. He would just slow them down. It wasn’t just that. The wall he built in his head was quickly crumbling around him. “Go, Em. Come on.” He hissed.

“Pheli is hurt too, and we aren’t leaving her.”

“Because Sam can carry her, and unless you’ve gotten stronger lately I don’t think you can piggy back me.”

“Well, then I guess we die together.”

Dean frowned, his eyebrows coming together. “You don’t mean that. You’re supposed to die with Phel. In a long time. Remember?”

“She has Sam. She will be okay.”

_Sammy._

Dean tried to lift himself up, his body crying out in response. Black peppered his vision as he tried to keep from blacking out. He ran on the leg before. He had to. He thought back to the creature on the ground with its two broken legs. He couldn’t be that sad son of a bitch. He couldn’t lay there and die if Emerson refused to leave him. He couldn’t let her die, too. He couldn’t leave Sammy with the responsibility of taking care of things alone.

“Hey I’ve got you.” She said, quickly grabbing his arm. He was heavy, but her feet were apart and her legs were steady. She put her arm under his like a crutch. “Don’t put pressure. Let’s go.”

It was too late. They took too long. The mob came around the corner to their left. “Fuck, let’s go!” Emerson said, dragging him to their right. Sam had turned then, they were quite a bit forward, still pushing on doors. He finally must have found one that wasn’t locked, because he stood there with his mouth hanging open and his hand on the handle. Between them, another group came around a corner. Another dozen or more.

They were surrounded.

“Dean..” Emerson gasped, her grip tightening on his waist. “We can fight them all. There aren’t enough bullets.”

They shuffled closer. The moans white noise. They were a buzzing in the air like coming up on a bee hive. The air was palpable, moving. She could smell them, the burning, rotting out flesh. It stung her nose. Bile rose in the back of her throat, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the smell or that it may be the end. It was all about to be over. There was no way out. No last stitch effort that either Emerson nor Dean could see.

She pulled him against the building. They couldn’t run, but with Deans wounded leg they couldn’t run anyway. At least now they couldn’t be attacked from behind. She quickly pressed his back against the building. With her hands pressed to his chest she opened her mouth to let out the words she was swallowing all those years, but her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to. So she turned away, with her back pressed to his front. Her arms were extended, holding her weapon. Despite the terror growing inside of her, her arms didn’t shake one bit.

Dean wrapped his arms around her to help her aim. They were able to take out a hand full as they came closer. One head shot. Another missed. In the throat, then again in the head. They didn’t have enough ammo. How many monsters were out there? They’d never have enough. Dean glanced around for something long and blunt to hit them with. In the middle of a city they were falling short of sticks or rocks.

She pulled the trigger and it just clicked in quiet response. She kept pulling and it continued to click back at her, empty. Dean sucked in his breath and held her by her hips, flipping them as quickly as he could manage on his bum knee. He hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head, shielding her from the hoard. “Should’ve left a bullet for me.” He mumbled, his breath close to her lips. “You shouldn’t have stayed, Em. Really fuckin dumb move.”

“You would’ve stayed for me.”

“I’m dumb.” He shrugged, forcing a smile. He could feel the heat on his back from the creatures behind him. They radiated like he was standing too close to the oven.

“You’re not.” She promised, touching his cheek. “That night Dean, on the roof… I’m…”

“Hey.” He stopped her with a shake of his head. “We ain’t doin that, okay? No chick flick moments. No need to go out like that.”

She sucked in her breath, but nothing could stop the tears that were steaming down her cheeks. He held her cheeks and kissed her as softly as he could manage. They had enough things that hurt. Enough harshness. Things with Em always made him feel light, and fucking hell if he had to die he could go out kissing her like that.

There was a noise behind them, a rumble, crushing bones, and screams from the creatures. He braced around her only moments before a hand curled around his shoulder. He sucked his breath in, and turned slightly out of instinct to look.

“Em.” He whispered, his mouth open.

It was a Jeep. A dark green Jeep had plowed through the hoard, some still reaching out, broken, from under its tires. A person was inside, dressed in layers, a black canvas jacket, dark jeans, boots, a scarf, a rimmed hat, and a gas mask. The person reached out a gloved hand for them. So much for no last stitch efforts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 Years Ago flashback summary  
> John had a mental breakdown after coming home from being in the marines and pulls Dean out of bed to bury him alive, convinced that he was still in the field, and that Dean would need to know how to escape.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.” - D.H. Lawrence

**-18 Days After-**

 

Dean grabbed the hand without question and allowed himself to be pulled into the Jeep, before reaching for Emerson’s hand. What was his choice? Stranger in a Jeep or a bunch of fleshy monsters that were trying to bite their faces. It was an easy decision, if he thought at all about it.

“We have two more. My brother and her sister. They’re just ahead.” Dean pointed to where Sam and Pheli were when he and Emerson got settled in the Jeep.

“Thank you.” Emerson said softly. “We were dead out there.”

The person, who’s build lead them to believe was male, gave them a big thumbs up. Nothing else could be made up behind the mask. It was all too eerie, but so much better than the alternative.

The Jeep pulled forward, over more bodies, easily crunching over their bones. Sam and Pheliwere behind the glass door of the building, curled together. Sam’s eyes lit up when the Jeep door flew open and Dean waved them in.

“I thought we lost you, man.” Sam said as he helped Pheli in. they were hurrying, the groans of the creatures were too close for comfort.

“You almost did.” Emerson said, wrapping her arms around Pheli’s waist.

“Whose this?” She asked, eyeing the driver.

“We don’t know.” Her sister whispered.

The man turned toward them and after what seemed like some careful consideration before removing his gas mask. He revealed messy dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a perfectly straight white smile.

“Holy fuck.” Dean whispered. “Holy _fuck_.”

“Hello, Dean.”

A grin grew on Dean Winchester’s tired, pained face. A real one, not the kind that he had become so familiar with that was painted with regret and fear. “Cas.” The two men pulled into a tight hug. “Holy shit it’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Cas said into Dean’s shoulder. He pulled out of the hug and looked Dean over. “You’re not hurt, are you? Any injuries? Bites? They didn’t bleed on in you, or gas you, did they?”

“What?” Dean asked, alarmed. “No, uh, we are good. Fucked up my knee, and Phel over there got grabbed and hurt her ankle.”

“But they didn’t bleed into you? Your mouth? A wound?”

The group all looked at each other and shook their heads. “No.” Emerson said quietly. “Why?”

“You don’t know, do you?” The dark haired man asked. His chin was tight as he put the Jeep in gear. “We need to go.”

“What do we not know?”

“I thought it was why you were here.” Cas licked his bottom lip. “We will talk more when we get to the base.”

Emerson reached for Dean’s hand and he laced his fingers with hers. He trusted Cas. “It’s okay.” He whispered against Emerson’s ear. If someone was going to pick them up he couldn’t have picked a better person. She nodded back at him, her other hand on Pheli’s knee.

He drove quickly, taking unconventional turns to lose the creatures on their trail. The Jeep crunched easily over bodies and the trash in the street. Before they knew it, they’d lost the creatures on their tail, and were back on the road to the base.

It was right outside of town, just like Dean had mentioned. The perimeter of the base was a tall fence made of different items that seemed to be procured from the city, and then lined again by barbed wire. Cas leaned in and grabbed his walkie talkie and pressed the button. “Castiel Novak reporting in. I have four recruits with me. There are no level red injuries that I can see.”

“I hear ya loud and clear Hot Wings.” A gravely Southern drawl met Castiel’s through the walkietalkie.

“You won’t believe who I found.”

“Lookin forward to it, Brother.” The voice said as the gates in front of them were pushed open by men in military uniforms.

Dean felt his chest tighten at the sight of the men in their ACU’s. He unconsciously tugged at his dog tags around his neck. Castiel pulled the Jeep forward. “Alright, first we will get you to Medical to get checked out. Have you eaten?”

“Not in a while.” Pheli squeaked, suddenly hyper aware of her empty stomach.

“We will get some rations for you and set you up with a place to rest.” He put the Jeep in park. The area seemed to be sectioned around an old strip mall. There were units that had new spray painted signs of their uses. They stopped in front of a shop that had a big sign that was painted _Medical_ in dripping red spray paint. “The guys will be happy to see you, Dean.”

“Me too.” He grunted.

Castiel swung his door open and got out of the car, the rest of the group followed his lead. Pheli leaned on Sam for support. Emerson jumped out before Dean, and held out a hand. He winced as his bag leg touched the ground, but he didn’t lean on Emerson. “You good?” She asked him softly. He shrugged in response.

Cas waved for them to follow him into Medical. The door chimed, perhaps the bell was left over from when it was a shop. It looked like the shop used to be a clothing store, the walls were still lined with garments, but the rest of the racks were taken out and moved. There were folding tables scattered intermittently that were covered with sheets to be used as exam tables and beds for the injured.

“You’re back!” A small woman said, looking up from her table. She was organizing medical supplies. “Hello Clarence.” She almost purred, moving from behind the table toward Cas.

“Meg.” He said, his blue eyes studying her. “I have some patients for you to look over. New residents. No level red injuries.”

“Have they come into contact with any Rogues?” Meg asked, pulling her dark waves into a ponytail.

“Swarm of them in the city. My timing was impeccable.”

“Rogues?” Dean asked with a frown.

“Not your turn to talk, tall dark and handsome.” Meg snapped, before turning back to Castiel. “You’re okay, Clarence? No close calls?”

“I’m fine.” He assured her.

“Good.” She exhaled before turning toward the rest of the group. “Name’s Meg Masters. I’m the resident doc around here. Just got lucky I guess. Take a seat. We will do physicals first, and then assess injuries. I know you told Clarence over there that you haven’t been bitten, but I’m still going to need to do a once over. Not worth the risk, ya hear me? Whose first?”

“Can you look over my girlfriend first? She hurt her ankle…” Sam asked, gesturing to Pheli.

“Sure.” Meg shrugged. “Bring Princess over here.”

“Cas,” Dean began, grabbing his arm before he could leave. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know if this is the right place, Dean.”

“I think anywhere is the right place. Rouges?”

He sighed in response, and pulled Dean away from Emerson so they could talk a little more privately. “It’s what we call the creatures that you encountered.”

“We came from out East, Cas. We saw the explosion. How were there effects way out here?”

“You really don’t know. Didn’t you go report when things went down?”

“I’m out, Cas. I’m a civilian. Not exactly anywhere for me to report to.”

“There were explosions everywhere. All over the US. A lot of bases were attacked. From what I understand the Capital is completely down. We haven’t received any communication or orders so we came here. Just like we all discussed.”

“It’s all dark?”

“That is how it appears.”

“Why are you so concerned about bites?” Dean frowned, his head spinning, but being back there across from his former brother in arms was bringing back old habits as he stood practically at attention.

“From what we can gather the Rogue’s were created from the blast and the red rain.”

“You had that here, too?”

“Haven’t in a while, but yes.” Castiel said with a sigh. He crossed his arms. “Things are bad, Dean. Our resources are good, but they won’t last forever. The Rogues are multiplying faster than we can pick them off.”

“Multiplying? I thought they happened from the blast.”

“That’s one way. From the intel that we’ve gathered, there are two levels. First level are the ones you saw. Nasty mother fuckers. They have the bubbled and burned flesh, and they are unbelievably hot to the touch. They’ll burn your skin right off if they grab ahold of you, and then there’s level two. These are the ones that have been infected.”

“Infected.” Dean repeated. “You’re saying this can be caught? Like a damn disease?”

“Exactly like a disease. Without a scientist or a real doctor it’s hard to be sure, but we think it is spread through bodily fluids. Saliva and blood are the big ones. Some of the Rogues also deplete a gas that is toxic. It’s unsure if this will cause an outbreak of the disease or not. No one has escaped the gas yet.” Castiel explained grimly.

“Christ.”

“You’re telling me.” He forced a smile. “It’s good to see you, Dean. It really is.”

“You too, Buddy.”

 

**-2 Years Before-**

 

“Winchester, do you need something?”

“Captain Novak, permission to enter?” Dean asked, standing at attention in the entryway to Castiel’s tent.

“Granted. What can I help you with?” Castiel scribbled at his paperwork on his desk, not looking up at Dean.

“Can I speak freely, sir?”

“Personal or business?”

“Personal.”

“Granted.” He finally looked up at Dean and smiled widely. “What can I do for you, Dean?”

“Morale is shit, Cas.” He said casually. “I was wondering if we could take some of the guys into town? You know, to have some fun.”

“I’m not sure if that would be wise. You do know these people want us dead, right?”

“I’m aware.” Dean said smoothly. “Or maybe a movie night? The guys are in a shit mood, sir.”

“Don’t sir with me right now.” Castiel waved Dean off. He’d been recently promoted, and there was no hiding that the two men were close friends. It still felt weird pulling rank. “But you’re right. I heard Garth crying in his bunk again. He’s a sensitive one.”

“He is.” Dean agreed. “Benny is down, too, Cas. He’s worried about his niece. I just think a distraction is in order.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “Okay, fine. We will arrange something. You’re due some fun, too, Winchester.” Castiel promised. “You head out tomorrow to work on those Humvee’s right?”

“Yup. Headed that way at oh-four-hundred.”

Cas grinned at him. “Up before the sun, I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

“Yup, jumping for joy over here.”

“Alright, Winchester, get out of my fucking face so I can get some work done. Dismissed.”

Dean gave his friend a loose salute and turned on his heels before exiting the tent.

“What’s the news, Brother?” Benny asked, a cigarette hanging out of his lips.

“He’s going to work something out.”

“Strip club?” Charlie asked, wiggling her eyebrows. She was a tiny thing, pale with red curls that always fell out of her tight bun at the base of her head.

“Aw, you wish.” Dean caught her around the shoulder and rubbed the top of her head.

“Get off, you ass.” She laughed. She always looked at Dean as a brother and he felt the same. She was brilliant and nobody could deny her computer skills. She was a fucking genius, and why she was out in the dirt with a bunch of men was beyond him. “So what, a football tournament again?” She complained.

“He didn’t really say.” Dean shrugged. “But you know Novak, he’s good for his word. Now get back to work, you lazy assholes.”

He moved forward, back to the tank he was supposed to be tinkering with, his mind far away. “Dean, hey you got a second?”

“Hm?” He turned back to Charlie.

“Don’t leave without me in the morning, I’ll be heading out with you. They’re having some technical difficulties, and I’m going to see what I can do to help.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “We leave at oh-four-hundred sharp, don’t be late. It’d be a long ass walk.”

“Heard.”

 

**-18 Days After-**

 

They wrapped Pheli’s ankle and applied burn cream from where the Rogue got a little grabby. She would be good to go in a few days, she just needed to stay off of it. Dean’s knee was out of place, before Meg popped it back in. She warned him that it could happen again, since she didn’t have the resources to fix it permanently.

The sun was going down on the camp, the orange sky causing the tents and people to seemingly glow. Some were washing clothes, hanging them up on a line; others cooked over a fire in the center of camp.

“No fucking way.” A deep drawl came from behind them. Dean turned, recognizing the sound immediately.

“ _Benny_?!”

“Hey, Brother.” The man said, pulling Dean into a hug. He wore a dirty Henley, and a gray hat over his dark peppered hair.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.” Dean grinned. “Oh, uh, guys this is Benny he was a buddy of mine from Afghanistan. He was in my unit. Benny this is my brother Sam.”

“So good to finally meet you.” Benny said, offering him a hand.

“This is his girlfriend Ophelia.”

“Call me Pheli, everyone does.”

“And her sister, Emerson.”

“Nice to meet you.” Benny said, kissing both girls hands. “Not very often we get pretty girls in here.” He grinned widely before turning back to Dean. “We are going to play some music by the fire tonight, like old times. We have to keep it low because of the Rogues, but one of our own is back. That’s cause for celebration.’

“Aw, man I don’t know. We are kind of tired, I think.”

“It’s okay.” Emerson said softly, touching his arm. “Benny is right. We almost died today, we should celebrate.”

Dean looked at her for a moment before nodding. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Alright. Fuck, I guess we’re in.”

“Great!” Benny said, slapping Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at the fire after dinner.”

“You got it.”

“Dean!” Castiel called, waving at the group. “We have your quarters set up for the night. We don’t have an extra tent at the moment. We can do some shuffling tomorrow, but it’s a nice night so we got you and Sam set up under the stars.” He gestured to the set up that was under a tree. “The ladies can follow me. We have some extra space with Meg and me.”

Emerson replaced Sam on Pheli’s side. “We will go get settled and meet you.” She promised the boys before following Castiel to the tent.

Dean leaned on the makeshift crutch that Meg made him. “Fuck, man.”

“You’re popular here.” Sam said once they were alone. He grinned widely. “Want to go sit for a bit? You look beat.”

“I feel beat.” Dean said, before scanning the camp. “I think I saw a sign for coffee on our way over here.”

“Sounds good.” Sam agreed.

“Why don’t you go settle our stuff, and I’ll grab a cup of joe.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I want to get a lay of the land before we get too comfortable.” Dean said with a nod before hobbling toward the coffee counter. It was a small stand, set up with just a table and a crudely painted sign. She had a small fire behind her in a metal ring that kept the coffee heated. His stomach ached for food, but his head throbbed from exhaustion. Caffeine would have to do. He didn’t want to know the kind of nightmares he would have if he closed his eyes.

“Heard you’ve got the caffeine.” He said as he approached the brunette behind the table. She was turned away, fiddling with the fire. “We will be seeing a lot of each other.” He laughed dryly. He knew it was smart to befriend the person supplying him with coffee or booze. He was always very chatty with his bartender.

The woman laughed and turned to him. “That’s me. I must say, ever since I took over this position I’ve been _very_ popular.” Her dark eyes caught his as she turned; her pink lips opened in shock. “Dean.” She murmured.

“Lisa.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And in the end, we were all just humans... drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

**-20 Months Before-**

After one glass of Jack Daniels, neat, Dean Winchester felt the familiar warmth. He felt the fog rolling off the water first thing in the morning. It was a comfort, an old friend.

After two glasses of Jack Daniels, neat, he felt tingling in his arms down to his fingers. It was the way his body felt during a concert when he stood too close to the speaker. He could feel the base booming through his veins.

After three glasses of Jack Daniels, neat, he almost forgot about the jagged scar down his knee and Tiny Tim’s walking stick that leaned against the bar. Almost.

“I should cut you off.” The pretty brunette bartender said after serving him the fourth glass of Jack Daniels, neat.

“But you never do.” He slurred just enough, and shot her the best smile he could do when he was feeling so down. It wasn’t impressive, but he was handsome and weathered, and that was exactly her type.

“I’m Lisa.” She said, leaning in.

“I know.” He pointed at her name tag above her left breast. “I can read.”

“It would be appropriate to tell me your name.”

“You don’t want to know me, Lis.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Why not? Because you’ve had a bad time of it? We get a lot of Vets in here. I know the drill.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You get a lot of Veterans, but yet you still don’t know to leave us the fuck alone? You’d should move along, sweetheart, you don’t know shit about war.”

“I had two older brothers die while in service. I know a little about it.” She said, flatly as she wiped down the bar top.

“Shit.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. He was an asshole. He was a crippled asshole.

“You all think that you own your pain, I’m just telling you that there are people who get it. There are people who could help you.”

“What? People like you?”

Lisa laughed and shook her head. “Me? Fuck no. You’re attractive, but you’re an ass.” She said, handing him his tab. “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready.”

After his accident everyone walked on eggshells with him. They did worse than that most of the time. Most of the time they avoided him all together. It was nice to be called out, because she was right. He was an ass, and he was wallowing. He pulled out some cash from his wallet and laid it down, deciding right then and there that he would be good enough for her one day. He had to be, because the alternative meant that he would be his father, and he would be damned if he ended up anything like John Winchester.

 

**-19 Months Before-**

 

“Lisa, the guy is here again.” One of the wait staff from the bar said.

She rolled her eyes and ate the last bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He was like clockwork, every day. “Dean.” She said when she reached the bar.

“Shit, am I late?”

“Late for what?”

“Your break. You usually take it at this time and well…” He held up a paper bag. “I brought you dinner.”

She eyed him. “What’d you bring?”

“Bacon cheeseburger. It’s my favorite.” He shrugged, handing her the paper bag. “You can have it, anyway.” He stood up from the stool.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, eyeing him, the bag in her hand.

His green eyes met her brown ones. “I was just here to drop that off.”

“You’re not going to stay?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not ready, Lis. I’m only going to ask you out when I’m good enough for you.” He leaned on his cane to take the pressure off of his bad knee. “So for now… take the burger as a peace offering.”

He walked to the door and opened it. “Dean?” She called after him.

“Yeah?” He turned toward her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded and pushed into the night.

 

**-18 Months Before-**

 

Dean brought Lisa dinner every night that she worked. He brought her doughnuts and coffee when she worked the day shift at the bar, and quickly learned her food preferences. The more he went to see her, the less he felt the self-loathing that plagued him.

He brought in her turkey bacon club with extra guacamole and spicy french-fries from the local place on the corner. He pushed into the bar. “Hey, Lance, where’s Lis?”

“She told me to have you meet her out back.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. He expected at some point that she would be sick of him, and he sighed, gripping the bag. He pushed too hard. He walked through the back door to find Lisa sitting alone at a single table with two plates, and a glass of water in front of her and the other empty seat. “Lis?”

“Hey, Dean.” She stood up with a smile. “Are you ready yet?”

“What?”

“You said you had to wait until you were ready to ask me out and well… I decided that I’m ready. I got you a bacon cheeseburger, and I was wondering if you’d want to have dinner with me… for real this time.”

Dean smiled a bit and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

 

**-16 Months Before-**

 

“Dean, babe, wake up.” Lisa said quietly. He sat up, sweat covering his chest, back, and face. Lisa’s hand was over his heart. “Your pulse is racing.”

“Sorry.” He exhaled, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart. He clamped his eyes shut. You’re okay. You’re okay.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No… I…”

“It’s okay.” She assured him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She placed a kiss on his jaw. “I’m here to talk when you’re ready.”

But he would never be ready. He still saw the look on Charlie’s face. How wide her eyes got. How she was laughing right before.

_“You’re seriously telling me you have no one at home? Even I left some ass behind.”_

_“You’re vulgar.” He laughed, shaking his head._

_“And you’re a prude, Winchester.”_

_Dean shrugged with a laugh. “I’m not, actually. I just don’t have anyone at home.”_

_Charlie narrowed her eyes. “Maybe it isn’t a girl… oh my god, Dean are you gay?”_

_He rolled his eyes. “Christ, no. I am not gay.”_

_“It’s okay if you are, you know. I am.”_

_“I’m aware.” He grinned._

_“I’m just surprised, I guess. You look like a fucking supermodel. Your face is perfectly symmetrical. It’s kind of creepy. You really don’t have any girls coming after you?”_

_“Hey, my face is not creepy.”_

_She laughed. “Deflection. Nice, but yeah it is kind of creepy.” She poked his cheek. “You don’t even look real.”_

Dean always expected that being buried alive would be the thing that would haunt him forever, but life was funny like that. Life was real fucking hilarious, and he was the butt of the joke. It wasn’t the child size coffin, or dirt in his lungs that haunted him. It was something else altogether.

The smell of burning flesh. The sight of Charlie’s arm off her fucking body. His knee completely twisted so his foot was facing the wrong direction. The sight of her empty expression looking up at him from his lap.

_“It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad, you’ll be okay.” He pressed his hands to the space where her arm used to be. They always teased her about being pale, but fuck she was so pale. “I’ve got you.” He kept whispering. They were alone. There wasn’t a medic. There was no one. Just Dean Winchester holding Charlie Bradbury as she died in his arms, bloody and alone._

“I’m here, Dean. I’ll always be here.” Lisa promised, hugging him tightly. Dean wished that people wouldn’t make promises, because there was no way they could be kept. Charlie died, Lisa left, and he was broken. He probably always would be.

 

**-18 Days After-**

 

“Lisa.”

“Oh my god.” She murmured, her eyes immediately spilling over. “I thought… This whole time I’ve been so terrified. I thought you were dead.”

“Not dead.” He said blankly. It was like he was shot back into time, back into her bed, into her arms.

“I’m so glad.” She exhaled quickly, running around the coffee cart. She wrapped her arms around his neck before he could stop her. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back. As bad as things ended between them, he was glad that she was okay, too. “Where’s uh…”

“Greg is gone.” She said quickly.

“Gone?”

“He left after Ben was born.”

“Ben.” Dean said slowly, trying out the name on his lips. He felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s my son. He’s beautiful.”

Everything crashed and burned. _My son._ Dean let go of the hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lis.” He said before turning on his heels and walking right back to Sam, leaving her standing alone next to the coffee cart.

“Where’s the coffee?” Sam asked. He was sitting with his back against a tree with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“The what?”

“You good?” Sam asked, eyeing him.

“Lisa is here.”

“Wait, like your Lisa?”

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, she was running the fucking coffee.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “What are the fucking chances?”

“Did she say anything to you?”  

“She hugged me.”

“And?”

“And her boyfriend dumped her after she had the baby. Ben.” Dean said quietly. “Fuck, I never thought I’d see her again.”

“But you don’t want to be with her, right? You’re with Emerson.”

“Right.” Dean said with a nod. “I want to be with Em. Shit, this just surprised me.”

“I’ll say. Relax, dude, just tell her you’re not available, and don’t drink her cool aid. It’ll be okay.”  

“Right.” Dean said again, his heart rate finally slowing back down. “Just brought back some shitty memories.”

“Maybe you should sit down?”

“Yeah.” He lowered himself to a seated position. “Have you seen Em?”

“She’s still with Phel getting settled. I hope they’re getting some rest.” Sam said, elbowing his brother. “We should get some rest, too. This is the safest we’ve been in day’s. We should take advantage of it while it lasts.” Then Sam closed his eyes and crossed his arms.

Dean was exhausted, but sleep was reserved for the guys that weren’t juggling an ex-fiancée and a childhood love in the same fucking camp.

 

****

 

“My hair looks fine.” Emerson swatted her sister’s hand away. “Quit Trying to braid it.”

“Please! You haven’t washed it in days.”

“Neither have you!”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell because of the braids! Just let me do the front. Dean will love it.”

“You don’t know what he’d love.” Emerson complained.

“You’re right.” Pheli put her hands on her sisters knees. “What does he love?”

“It’s all so new, Phel. Am I crazy to try to start this during all of this? During the fucking end of the world?”

“If not now, then when?

“The next life?” Em offered weakly.

“Come on, what do you have to lose?”

“Everything. I could lose everything.”

“You’ll only lose everything if you let him see your nasty hair.” Ophelia teased. “Now let me braid the front!”

“You are terrible at pep talks.”

“Or am I really good at them?”

“Whatever just braid it before I change my mind.”

 

****

 

Benny sat by the fire as it licked up toward the moon. His acoustic guitar sat on his knee. “Say you’re leavin on a seven thirty train and you’re headin out to Hollywood. Girl, you been givin me that line so many times it kinda gets like feelin bad looks good.”

Dean laughed and Benny nodded at him.

“That kinda lovin turns a man to a slave. That kinda lovin sends a man right to his grave.” Garth joined in, singing off key, just like old times.

“I go crazy, crazy, baby I go crazy. You turn it on, then you’re gone. Yeah you drive me crazy, crazy, crazy for you baby. What can I do, honey? I feel like the color blue.” Benny and Garth sang together. They sounded like a pair of coyotes howling at the moon, but it reminded Dean of when things were good.

“Is this what is was like?” Sam asked him, leaning against the tree.

“Was what like?”

“Your deployment.”

“Kind of.” Dean said with a smile. “Sometimes.”

Castiel joined in, strumming on his knee completely off beat. He waved Dean over, and Dean finally rolled his eyes and walked right up to the group. “You’re packin’ up your stuff and talkin like it’s tough, and tryin to tell me that it’s time to go. But I know you ain’t wearin nothin underneath that coat.” Dean sang with his gravely voice, his boot on the stump next to Benny.

“Crazy, crazy, baby I go crazy…”

Dean’s eyes locked with Emerson across the camp as she exited Castiel’s tent. Pheli had braided her hair out of her face, but the rest spilled down her back. Her flannel was tied around her waist, and his breath hitched in his throat when she reached up to stretch and the space between her shorts and her tank top met the firelight.

“I need your love, honey, yeah. I need your love.” The men harmonized, without Dean. His mouth was completely dry. She did that to him, caused his head to spin, like nothing else in the world mattered at all.

Garth handed Dean a beer. “They’re far and few between.” He winked. “But we’re celebrating, right?”

“Right.” Dean exhaled, his eyes still on Emerson as she walked toward the fire.

“Dean!” Lisa said, as she jogged over to him. She had an infant in her arms.

He swallowed hard at the sight. _Holy shit_. “Lis.” He breathed, her name barely a whisper.

“I wanted you to meet Ben.” Her eyes flickered up to Sam’s. “Oh, hi Sam.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Lisa.”

“It’s nice to see you, Sam.”

“Likewise.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Look at him.” Dean said, distracted by the child’s chubby cheeks. He had Lisa’s dark hair and her lips. His tiny thumb was in his mouth as he sucked away. He didn’t notice Lisa snake an arm around his waist to bring Ben closer. “Wow.”

“He’s incredible.” She agreed.

Little Ben gave a sleepy sigh and a few baby babbles, causing Dean’s heart to squeeze. He never let himself admit how much he wanted that. Not until he almost had it. He loved Lisa, and he loved her pregnant. When he left he knew it would be better. He wasn’t made to be a father, but that didn’t mean he didn’t secretly wish for it in the deepest parts of his soul. “Hi, Ben. I’m…”

“Dean.”

His eyes flickered up. “Em, hey.”

The Maklen twins stared at him. When they were young he used to think they were creepy. There was always something creepy about twin girls, especially when they stared at him. He stopped thinking that, the older he got, but in that moment Ophelia had a murder look in her eyes and Emerson’s jaw looked tight. “Uh, Em this is Lisa…”

“Lisa.” Emerson repeated.

“Yeah, uh Lis this is Em my…”

“Friend.” Emerson said, smoothly. “Our sibling’s are dating.” She added quickly. “This is Ophelia.” She tapped her sisters arm.

“Nice to meet you.” Pheli said with equal parts aggression and sugar. She was good at that.

“I was just helping her over to Sam since she hurt her ankle. I’ll see you guys later.” Emerson said before turning away.

Dean stared at her and didn’t stop her as she walked away and sat on a log right next to another guy who was sharping a blade. He pressed his lips together and just watched.

“Dean you fucking idiot.” Phel hissed. “Go after her.”

He watched her lean in to him, asking questions about the knife, he assumed. _Friend. Our siblings are dating._

“I think I need to lay down.” He said, offering Lisa a weak smile. “See ya later, Lis. He’s a cute kid, really.”

“Thanks.” She said, looking confused as he made his way back to the tree that he and Sam were using for camp.

He looked at the full beer in his hand that Garth gave him. He stared down the neck of the bottle before pressing it to his lips, and welcoming the warmth. It wasn’t Jack, but he’d be happy if it helped him sleep. Anything to quiet the noise in his head, and blank out the image of some other guy’s baby in Lisa’s arm, that guy’s hand on Emerson’s thigh, and the life draining from Charlie’s eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter does have a big rape trigger at the end. I am a survivor, and I wrote true to my own experience. If you do not want to read that scene, I will put a ** directly under the time jump and you can just skip directly to the end. I will put a non detailed description of what happened in the end notes. 
> 
> 1 in 5 women, and 1 in 71 men are raped according to a study by the Centers for Disease Control. I feel this is a prevalent topic, and it is important to me. It will be discussed again, but this is the worst detail that will come from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares.” - Aman Jassal

**-18 Days After-**

 

Emerson walked toward the fire. Her head was spinning. _“This is Lisa…”_ The ex-fiancée? The same Lisa that fucked another guy? Was _that_ the other guys baby? _They did look chummy_. She thought, sadly. She needed a drink, or ten.

They were just friends, after all. They never discussed more. They never specified. So of course he had the right, but that didn’t mean that she wanted him to. Her eyes scanned a place to sit, and found an empty log. She lowered herself to it, and closed her eyes. It was all too much.

Emerson didn’t date. That was always Ophelia. Em didn’t date. She didn’t fall in love. She didn’t get hurt. Hurt was a feeling specific to those that care, and she made it clear a long time ago that she wasn’t going to care. She wouldn’t get her feelings hurt or stay up crying over a guy. No way. She had bigger problems.

The same was true then, as she sat by the heat of the fire. They’d almost been taken down by a group of Rogues. Actual monsters were roaming the world, and yet she was feeling down about some guy.

The fact that the guy was Dean Winchester, should’ve made it ten times worse. She did not feel hurt over Dean Winchester. Not anymore. She put up that door a long time ago. Lock and key. No entrance granted. Her heart was secure. At least it _was_.

She was kicking herself for letting him weasel his way in. It was a slow assault, calculated. She cared, and she fucking hated it.

“This seat taken?” A deep voice asked.

Emerson opened her eyes to meet the eyes of a man. His skin was deep brown and his hair was cut short. He offered a charming smile. “No, all yours.” She said, making room for him.

“I’m Gordon.”

“Emerson.”

They shook hands, even though Em felt like it was a little weird.

“Can I get you something to drink? We don’t usually partake, but everyone is celebrating. Some old war buddy rolled in and everyone is feeling like a party.”

 

**-5 Years Before-**

 

“Can I get you a drink?” Dean asked, leaning against the railing of the pier. It was the end of the Summer party at the beach. They had it every year, but this was the last time Dean would go to one, and it had Emerson in a weird position.

“I already have one.” She said, wiggling her flask.

She did not drink at parties. Dean was only offering as an excuse to bug her. To poke. To talk to her. He left in a week, and he knew his time was limited.

“Oh, uh, well good.”

“You’re very articulate.” Emerson raised an eyebrow, and for the first time that night he really looked at her. Her lips had a tint of shine from lipgloss, and her hair was curled. She wore a sheer black top over a pair of ripped shorts. He could see her bikini tie coming out from the neck of her shirt. It was against her _no swimming around drunk people_ policy.

“Did Pheli kidnap and dress you?”

“You don’t like it?” She twirled a curl in her finger, and suddenly he had to wonder if he was looking at the wrong twin.

“Em?”

“Yes, Dean?”

He squinted a little harder at her. Her cheeks were pink, flushed. It was dark, but he could make her out perfectly in the reflection of the moon on the ocean. “Are you drunk?”

“I don’t know mom, am I?”

“Emerson Maklen is drunk at a party. Fuck, now I’ve seen it all.”

“What?” She crossed her arms. “I’m not allowed to have fun? Everyone else does! I’m about to be a senior in high school. Then after it’s just life. I’ve never had fun a day in my life. What better time to start than now?”

“Can’t really argue with that logic.” He admitted. “So, what is this? Girls Gone Wild?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, I’m not the enemy here.” He put his hands up in surrender, with a small smirk. “But, yeah, I’d probably enjoy that.”

She reached forward and smacked his arm. “You’re obnoxious.”

“Ah, she’s back!”

Emerson rolled her eyes, and put the flask back to her lips.

“So, you’re just having your rebellious stage late?” He asked, holding the neck of his beer. He swirled it around a bit before taking a swig.

“It’s not rebellious.” She turned her body away from him, sliding her flask in her back pocket. She put her hands on the railing and looked out at the ocean.

“Okay.” Dean walked to her and rested his hands next to hers. “Then what is it?”

“Sometimes the future feels really final.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like I was always going to end up at the same finish line no matter what I do.”

“We all die eventually.”

“Jesus, I wasn’t talking about dying.”

Dean laughed lightly and tugged on one of her curls. “Damn they’re bouncy.”

She swatted his hand away. “Do you believe in fate, Dean?”

His laugh quieted, and he stared out into the empty blackness of the ocean. He couldn’t tell where it stopped and the sky started. “Sometimes.”

“This isn’t a party subject.” Emerson said as she pulled out her flask again. She finished the whole thing with a _wooo_ and a shake.

“And what is a party subject?” Dean mused.

Emerson’s eyebrows came together in thought, as if she wasn’t always the wallflower at parties ignoring everyone and making sure Pheli made it home with all of her pieces of clothing.

As if his thoughts inspired her, she touched the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her pale stomach.

“Christ, Em.” Dean said, averting his gaze out of politeness.

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re such a prude.”

“Me?” This got his head to turn in surprise. “I am not a prude.”

“Good, because if you can’t handle a girl in a bathing suit then I don’t know how you’ll ever lose your virginity.” She teased.

“Fuck you.”

“Dean Winchester.” She said, unbuttoning her shorts. “You’re going to have to ask a lot nicer than that.”

All of his breath lost his body as she wiggled out of her shorts. They hit the wooden planks of the pier, and she smiled devilishly up at him through her loosening curls.

“Are you just going to watch?” Emerson asked softly. She approached him, closing the space between them.

“What are you doing?” He asked, once he was able to look over her shoulder long enough to form a cohesive thought.

She rested her palms on his chest and ran them down his stomach before she gripped the hem of his shirt. “Arms up.” She instructed as if she was talking to a toddler, and just like one, he raised his arms up. She peeled his shirt off of him and smiled at his skin in the moonlight.

“What are you doing?” He repeated, pushing a hair out of her face. He was out of breath and _fuck_ , she had him. He would put on her bikini if she asked him, but she didn’t.

She turned away from him, giving him an impossibly perfect picture. She rested her hands back on the pier. “How high up do you think we are?”

“I don’t know.” He said, his feet planted where he stood. He tried to memorize the way her skin looked in the moonlight. He knew he’d want to remember when he was in a tent with twenty other sweaty guys in the middle of the dessert.

“I think it’ll be fine.”

“What will?”

She moved before he could process. One foot on the lower railing and then the other, until she stood on the fucking handrail like some kind of acrobat.

“Emerson what the fuck?” His feet moved then as he rushed up to her, but he didn’t get too close. He didn’t want her to fall.

She turned and looked over her shoulder at him with a big smile. “Let’s go swimming.”

“Let’s not go swimming instead. Get down.”

She waved him off and looked back out to the ocean. “I’d never do this.”

“Yeah let’s stick to the status quo, come on.”

She swayed slightly, perhaps from watching the ocean or maybe from the alcohol making its way through her veins. “Maybe that’ll scare fate. Maybe it’ll change things. Oh.” She lost her footing, making Dean’s heart about jump out of his throat before she got her balance back with a giggle.

“Emerson get down now! Don’t fucking make me come get you.”

“Take the leap, Dean. I can’t. You know that, right? It’s too hard.” She closed her eyes, feeling her world spin. “I need you to…” She swayed again before her eyes shot open. “Follow me.” She instructed, and he reached for her, but not fast enough. She was airborne, screaming.

“Fuck!” Dean shouted, climbing over the edge. He dove down after her, and she hit the water only moments before he did.

It was cold, but thankfully the tide wasn’t pulling them too hard. It was easy to stay in place with simple treading. She popped up in front of him gasping. “Oh my god.”

“Are you okay?” He held her face in one hand, his eyes searching hers.

She opened her mouth and laughed. “That was amazing!”

He met her laughter. “God, you’re fucking crazy.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes still hooded from the alcohol. She petted the back of his neck with her fingers. “You followed me.”  

“Didn’t want you to drown.” He grunted.

“Dean.” She breathed. It sounded a little more like bean from her drunken slur. She pressed her forehead to his. “I think I…”

“Shh.” He cut her off, pain cracking his voice. “Not now.”

“What?” She sounded confused, her voice raising a she titled her head to the side, pulling back from him. “Why not?”

He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, staring at her mouth before meeting her eyes again. “Because when we… I want you to be sober. I want it to be real.”

 

**-18 Days After-**

 

“Why not.” Emerson said, smiling at Gordon. He was nice, and all of his flesh was still on his body. Those were the only two requirements she had for company at that moment.

He came back with two beers and handed her one. She popped the cap and took a long sip. It was warm, but the buzz from lack of food and alcohol for weeks had her tingly. “Thanks.”

“See a pretty girl give her a drink.” Gordon shrugged, taking a swig of his own beer. “That’s the rule.”

“Oh is it?”

He grinned widely. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“You heard right.” She said with a nod.

“I haven’t seen you around before, and it’s a small camp.”

“Just rolled in today.”

“Just you?”

“Me, my sister, her boyfriend, and his brother. The brother is the war buddy you mentioned.”

“Huh.” Gordon grunted. “He seems well liked.”

“And he knows it.” She agreed.

“What were you doing, before.”

“School.” Emerson said dreamily. It wasn’t long ago, but it felt like a lifetime. “You?”

“I was a bounty hunter.”

“Wow.” She said, glancing at him. “That’s a really interesting career choice.”

“I like bringing in the bad guys.” He shrugged. “Gives me some sort of peace. Guess it prepped me for this. My favorite new pass time is taking down Rogues.”

“They’re terrifying. I’d rather never come in contact with them again.”

“If only we were so lucky.”

“Right.” She glanced over his shoulder and caught Dean staring from his tree.

“So, not to be forward, but you don’t have a boyfriend out there, do you?”

“No.” She said quickly, looking at him. “What about you?”

“Nah. Just my sister.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She turned..”

“Shit. I am so sorry.”

“I took her out myself.” He said, a tint of darkness in his voice. “It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

She took his hand in comfort and met his eyes. “I don’t think I could do that.”

“You’d be surprised what you can do when you have to. It’s usually you or them. When it’s put up like that it’s a pretty easy decision.”

“My sister is everything to me. She’s my identical twin. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Ah, so I wasn’t seeing double.” He grinned widely.

“No.” Emerson laughed at the poor excuse for a joke. “There are two of us.”

“That’s kind of the dream.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew Pheli.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not.” He eyed her beer. “Need another?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

“What if I am?”

She shrugged and finished her bottle. “Guess we’ll find out.”

 

**-5 Years Before-**

 

Dean wrapped Emerson in a towel and they sat at the end of the pier with their feet dangling, waiting for the sunrise. The party had died down to a few other couples chatting, but most people were passed out in the sand.

“That was reckless.” He commented. “You could’ve drowned.”

“I know.” Emerson was getting more sober by the hour.

“I won’t always be here to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to keep me safe, Dean.” She pulled her knees up to her chest.

“I know that.” He pushed a hair behind her ear.

“Great.” She moved his hand away by shrugging her shoulder.

“I’m just saying I won’t be here for much longer…”

She turned to him completely, her eyebrows together and her jaw set. “I know that, Dean. You don’t think I know that? You’re _leaving_. Great. Just fucking leave me alone about it.” She stood up, dropping her towel and picking up her clothes.

“What just happened?” He asked standing up.

She didn’t answer, walking away from him. She stood a little quickly and it made her head pound, but she didn’t wait for him to catch up.

“Emerson stop!”

“Why should I?” She asked, whipping around, her eyes were filled with tears. “You put it all out there. You said it all. You’re leaving. We aren’t friends. We never have been. We have been playing along with Sam and Pheli all of this time, and you’re leaving so we don’t have to anymore. Honestly, Dean, it’s a huge relief.”

She built the wall up around her heart again brick by brick. She trapped herself inside, away from any risk of additional pain. The fuzzy memory of her almost confession had left her completely. Their time in the water felt like a dream.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I promise that I do.” She said sharply, before turning away again.

“Don’t do this. Don’t end it like this.”

“End what? What is this, Dean?”

“It’s…we’re…” He was lost for the words. He stood there, as the sun rose behind him, staring at her with nothing to say. He had no words on the tip of his tongue. There wasn’t a way to translate his thoughts out into the air in a way that she would understand. It was too late, anyway.

“It’s nothing. There’s nothing to end.”

 

**-18 Days After-**

********

 

Emerson had been drinking with Gordon for two hours when she finally needed to call it a night. He was a cool guy, but it was all very surface level. It was a nice change from her usual heavy weight that came with being around Dean. It felt easy, but it felt a little wrong, and in the wake of the all the beers, her head was spinning. She found herself glancing in Dean’s direction to see if he was watching her. Half the time he was, but he didn’t come over. He didn’t correct her deceleration of friendship. Some things never changed no matter how much time passed.

She stood up, with a little bit of sway. “It’s getting late. I should probably go to bed.”

“Hey there, unsteady.” He said with a laugh standing up next to her. He caught her as she stumbled again. “Maybe I should walk you. Just to make sure you get back okay.”

Emerson shrugged and looped her arm in his. “Thanks.” She breathed. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

They walked, swaying back and forth toward the tents. “Tonight was nice. It felt good to just be.” She said, leaning on him since the ground was tilting. “I’m up here in Castiel’s tent.”

“He’s a nice guy. I had a good night, too.” He stopped in front of the tent entrance, glancing in. They were alone. The majority of the camp was still crowded around the fire enjoying the merriment. He stood a little closer to her, his breath on her lips.

“Gordon I…”

He closed the space between them, pressing his lips to hers.

Her head was fuzzy, tingling from the beer. Her head spun, like the earth was off its axis. He backed her through the flap of the tent.

“Gordon.” She tried again, putting her hands on his chest to push him further away, but in the fog from the alcohol she struggled to push out of his tight grip around her waist.

“Let’s just be.”

She tasted the beer on his tongue, hot and slick against hers. She felt bile come up her throat, but she choked it back down. She fell backwards, her back hitting her bedroll causing all of the breath to escape her chest.

Gordon’s fingers fumbled with the button on her pants, kissing her too hard, his teeth biting into her lip, and she was finally able to pull her mouth away. “St…stop.”

His fingers hooked in her pant loops and pulled down.

“Gordon stop.” She said again, struggling against his weight.

“We had a good time, Emerson. You said it. Don’t over think it. Time is short. It’s the end of the world.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… Stop!” Her voice shook and she tried desperately to raise her voice, but it was stuck in her throat. It barely raised above a whisper. _Yell. Scream. Hit him!_ She couldn’t move. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as his palm pressed against her mouth to silent her struggle.

She tried to find a place far away as his weight settled over her. She was weak and drunk and he was bigger than her. She scratched at his back, but it didn’t seem to bother him. It made him groan deeply. Her hands dropped at her side, and she stopped struggling.

In her mind she was far away, on the pier. She didn’t feel the pressure as he forced her legs apart and pressed into her. She was watching the reflection of the moon in the water. She was feeling the spray of the ocean. Her eyes were closed tightly, and she tried to focus on the sound of the waves.

It wasn’t a pain like she felt before. It was detached, like she’d left her body. Like she was a shell, and deep in her soul she knew that she would never be the same again. He was mumbling against her neck. She didn’t understand him, and she didn’t need to. She didn’t want his words of affirmation, or the sound of his climax. She would never be healed. There were some wounds that stayed open inside. The wall she built around her heart didn’t prepare her for this. It felt like she forgot to protect a side. She was so focused on keeping Dean out that she wasn’t paying attention. She wasn’t watching all sides. She was a woman and she knew better. But they always do, don’t they? Predators didn’t discriminate.

She heard a zip as he fastened his pants back up. He left quickly after, not bothering to cover her up as he grunted a good night. She felt sharp aches throughout her legs and inside of her stomach. There was a lot of wetness between her legs that she didn’t dare check. She couldn’t look at her bedroll. It’d make it too real, and she hadn’t reentered her body yet, and she didn’t want to. The longer she was numb the longer she wouldn’t have to face it.

She sat up slowly and pulled up her underwear. She pulled the blanket over herself. Her hands shook, as she couldn’t get the smell of the fire and beer sweat of his skin out of her nose.

The entire time they’d been traveling she was afraid of the Rogues. Of the dripping flesh and their black teeth. Monsters were real, but the most devastating part of it all was realizing that the worst monster’s weren’t the Rogues. They were people.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****  
> Notes for anyone skipping the scene. Basically, Gordon and Emerson continue to drink by the fire and she decides to go to bed. She is too drunk to walk much so he walks her back to her tent and assaults her. 
> 
> I hope this wasn’t too triggering for anyone, and I do hope you’ll continue to read. Please let me know if you have anything you want or need to talk about concerning this in the comments! I read them all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mention of rape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say.” - Mitch Alborn

**-18 Days After-**

 

In books and movies, when two people fall in love everything falls into places like dominoes in a perfect line. No tile falls before the one proceeding it, and they all make a perfect picture. That’s what it was like for Pheli and Sam. They fell into place effortlessly.

Her legs rested over his as they sat with their backs against a log facing the fire. He had an arm around her, and his fingers drummed against her arm to the music.

“That was bad, don’t you think?” She asked against his neck, placing a kiss below his ear.

“What was?” Sam asked absentmindedly watching the fire.

“Lisa.” She hissed.

“Oh.” He sighed. “That.”

“Yeah, _that_.”

“She really did a number on Dean.”

Ophelia looked at Sam and put her finger under his chin, prompting him to look at her. “Do you think he still has feelings for her?”

“I don’t know.” Sam said with a sigh.

“Things have just seemed to be going well for him and Emerson…”

“Hey.” Sam said, taking her hand in his. “It’ll work out. He’s always had a torch for Em. We just need to let them work it out.”

Pheli poked out her bottom lip instinctively. “I know, but she’s my sister. I want to protect her.”

“I know you do.” He kissed her hair. “But they’re adults. We shouldn’t meddle.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Tell me about it.” He grinned widely at her, before humming along to whatever song Benny was singing.

Ophelia’s eyes locked on her sister. Emerson sat next to a guy that Pheli had yet to meet, she looked relaxed with a beer in her hand. She knew Sam was right, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to smack Dean silly for letting her walk away. When it’s real you don’t walk away. Didn’t he have a romantic bone in his body?

Sam leaned over to Benny and whispered something too low for Pheli to hear.

“Sure, brother.” Benny responded before starting up a new song.

Her ears perked up, and she turned to look at her boyfriend, who was grinning ear to ear. “You didn’t.”

“Turns out he takes requests.”

“You are so lame.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed Sam right on the lips. She knew that no matter what happened, Sam wouldn’t walk away from her. He wouldn’t be the one leaving.

“I’m accidentally in love.” Sam sang softly against her lips, holding his palm against her cheek.

 

**-4 Years Before-**

 

“Come on, Phel. This is our chance. It’s not too late for her to get another room mate.”

“No, Samuel! Do I have to say it a thousand times?” Ophelia asked, turning back to the truck that they were using to move into the dorms. The couple was having a stare off. Her arms were crossed tightly at her chest, and Sam’s hands were in his pockets. Despite his height, he wasn’t nearly intimidating enough to ever win against her.

“I just…” He sighed and took her fingers in his hands. “We have been together for a long time… it’s time for us to take the next step, don’t you think?”

Pheli melted a little, loosening her arms so he could take her hand properly. “You know I want to live with you.”

“Then do it!” He whined.

“Sam I can’t. Em and I have always been together. She needs me, you know? I can’t just abandon her for a guy.”

“I’m not just a guy.”

“I know you aren’t, honey, that isn’t what I’m saying.”

“I know it’s not.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head. “I knew what I was getting into when I asked you out. The Maklen twins were always a package.”

She kissed the base of his throat. “It won’t be forever. Eventually she will find someone that she wants to live with…”

Sam pulled back a bit to capture her lips in his. “Don’t tell me that’s why you wanted her and Dean together so badly.”

She laughed humorlessly. “You aren’t the only one dating someone codependent, Sam. I figured the two of them and the two of us would be… I don’t know? Magical isn’t the right word…”

“Convenient?”

Pheli cracked a smile and nodded. “Yeah, that is the word.”

“Can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink, Phel.”

“I really don’t appreciate that metaphor, Sam.”

“Sorry.”

“It was all going fine until Dean had to disappear into the fucking night.” She complained, pulling away from the hug to grab her bag from the back of the truck. “Emerson won’t even acknowledge that there was ever anything going on, but I’m not blind, you know?”

“She probably just needs time.” Sam said with a wince. “I know I do.”

“I’m sorry.” Pheli sighed. “I didn’t mean to bring it up like that. Have you heard from him?”

“Gotten some letters.”

“Good. At least he’s writing someone.”

Sam grabbed a box and smiled at her. “Emerson’s a great girl, she won’t be alone forever. I know it would’ve been cool if her and Dean would’ve worked out, trust me. I want him to be happy, but not everyone finds their soulmate when they’re in high school.”

“I guess not.” She said sadly, before kissing him again. “Maybe not everyone is this lucky.”

“The odds of winning the lottery are pretty low, Phel.” He grinned, two dimples making an appearance on his cheek.

She poked one and let herself smile. “Let’s go. I’m sure Em thinks we hid out somewhere to have sex.”

“Maybe we should live up to that stereotype.”

“Shh, you.” Pheli pointed at him with a warning.

He laughed brightly and the couple walked away from the truck, toward the dorms, and into a new chapter.

 

****

 

“You didn’t have to kick Sam out.” Emerson said, hanging up her clothes in the closet.

“Sure I did.” Pheli said, organizing her makeup on her desk. “This is our first night on our own. Our first night of freedom! No boys allowed, just the Maklen sister’s against the world!” She spun dramatically in her desk chair.

“Looks like you have a lot of expectations for tonight.”

“I do.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything… everything!”

Emerson smiled at her sister, but behind her dark eyes was a deeper longing that Pheli knew that she wouldn’t be able to fill. “I don’t know, Phel. Maybe you should call Sam. I’m tired, and I have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“So let’s unpack.” She said quickly, fumbling in her bag. She pulled out a bottle of vodka and shook it. “We can make a drinking game out of it!”

“As tempting as that is.” Emerson said with a sour face, her upper lip curled and her nose wrinkling.

“Come on, Em. I know you’re sad but…”

“I’m not sad.” She cut Pheli off. “I’m tired. I told you. I just… I want to get settled in. We’re starting over. I just need a night.”

Pheli looked at her sister. Her shoulders were tight and her eyes looked swollen from lack of sleep. Her blonde hair was tossed lazily into a bun on top of her head. “Okay. We can put on some movies and unpack? Order in?”

Emerson smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “That’d be great.”

“Why don’t you go on a coffee run, and I’ll find all the best DVD’s?”

“Sure.” Em said, grabbing her purse. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Sounds good.” She gave her sister a thumbs up as the door latched behind her.

She knew the DVD’s were in one of Emerson’s boxes, and she lowered herself to the floor so she could start rifling through them. The first box seemed to be all clothes, so she pushed it away. The second had books on top, so it seemed like a possible option. She moved the first few books away and squinted as a white envelope fell out of one of the books. “What…”

It was a letter from Dean. The fold lines were perfectly preserved, despite the fact that it’d obviously been read dozens of times at least. “He wrote to you after all.” She said, carefully unfolding the page. She knew it was a complete invasion of privacy, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t put on the breaks for long enough to talk herself out of it.

 

_Em,_

_Shit, I don’t know what to say. I’m on the bus to Basic Training. A fucking bus, and all I can think about is the sky. I’m sure it sounds weird, but hear me out, okay? I’m lookin out the window, and we are in the middle of nowhere so there are hundreds of stars. It looks like glitter was just thrown onto a piece of black paper. You should see this sky, Em. I never really realized how many stars there were. I knew, well of course I knew that there were a lot, but it never really clicked before now. Sometimes I think it takes me a little longer to get things, maybe I got hit one too many times growing up._

_We are under the same sky, Em. You and me. When I look at the moon I’m gonna always think about you lookin up at it, too. What’s it look like there? I had to have seen it a million times, but fuck if I remember it now. I’m always lettin things pass me by. Maybe I’ll stop doing that. I know it ain’t fair for me to do that now of all times, but I can still think it. I probably never really saw the sky when I was home. I looked, sure, but I don’t think I ever saw it. I wanna see it now. Just tell me it’s not too late. Please. I’ve gotta know I didn’t fuck it all up._

_I keep thinkin about last night on the roof. I should’ve… I guess it doesn’t matter what I should’ve done. It only matters what I did, and I’m sorry, Em. I’m always lettin you down, and you’re the best person I know. I don’t want to let you down anymore. I wanna be stable, like the moon and those stars. They’re always there, ya know? Whether we can see them or not._

_Dean_

 

Pheli held the letter to her chest. Emerson never told her about it. She looked back down at it, before folding it carefully and placing it back in the pages of the book. She wanted to know if she wrote him back, if there were more letters hidden somewhere. Turned out there was a romantic bone in Dean’s body and it was a damn good one. That was a love letter. It was poetic and beautiful, and Pheli found herself a little jealous. She couldn’t believe, after everything, that Em would keep it to herself.

Her head shot up when Emerson unlocked the door to their dorm. “Hey, good news, there’s a coffee cart really close. We really got the good dorm.” She said brightly before stopping in her tracks. “Phel? Shit, are you okay?”

Pheli didn’t realize that there was a tear rolling down her cheek until Emerson knelt down to wipe it. “I’m… I want you to be happy, no matter what.”

“Hey.” Emerson said with a smile. “I am happy. We are at college. A fresh start, right?”

“But is that what you want? You want to start all over?”

Emerson’s eyes flickered down to the book in Pheli’s hands and up to her eyes. She looked into the eyes of her sister’s. It was much like looking into her own. “We have to keep moving forward.” She said, finally. “All going backwards can do it hurt.”

“You’re sure?”

She gave Pheli a single nod. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She said, placing the book back into the box. “Now which box is Pretty in Pink in because I need Molly Ringwald in my life now.”

“Over here.” Emerson smiled gratefully. “The box that’s labeled _movies_.”

Pheli raised an eyebrow. “Labels. That’s really smart, college girl. I’ve got a lot to learn from you.”

“Let’s start with coffee and go from there.”

“Deal.”

**-18 Days After-**

 

“Let’s call it a night.” Sam said with a yawn. “Dean’s been alone at the tree too long, I’m sure I’ll be sleeping in the dirt. He’s a notorious bed hog.”

“Aw, you miss sleeping with me?”

“I miss sleeping with you the moment we get out of bed.”

“You’re too cute for your own good.” She placed a kiss on his chin.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Count on it.” He gave her one more peck before jogging back over to his brother, whose back was now to the campfire.

Pheli stretched and walked toward the tent, passing the guy who was sitting with Emerson, who she knew now was Gordon Walker. He avoided her look as she passed him, and her skin ran cold in response. Her stomach twisted as she pushed through the flaps of the tent.

Emerson laid on her side with her back facing Pheli. Even in the low light she could make out the red that came out from under her sisters blanket. “Oh my god.” She rushed to her sister, kneeling down. “Em?”

She opened her eyes to face Pheli. She looked completely broken. Her face was wilted and her bottom lip trembled. She was impossibly small, like a child. Her lips were swollen along with the skin under her eyes. “What did that motherfucker do to you?” She asked, holding Emerson’s face.

She propped herself up, wiping snot off her face with the back of her hand. She gripped the sheets in her lap. “Nothing.”

“We should get you checked out… you’re bleeding…”

Emerson looked up, meeting her sisters eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

There was something unspoken between the twins. Their mother was convinced that they were telepathic. That they spoke inside of their minds. That moment was no exception. Pheli read her sister loud and clear.

She took her sisters hand. “Can we sleep together tonight? I’m scared, and I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Of course.” Emerson said, and Pheli stood slowly, helping her sister up. Em stood on shaking legs, exposing wet blood on the inside of her thighs. Ophelia’s jaw set tightly.

“I can’t wait for a bath. I heard they have some kind of set up here. It’ll be nice.”

“Yeah.” Emerson agreed as they both rested on Pheli’s small pallet. They laid nose to nose under the blanket. Her hands where on Emerson’s hips protectively.

“I’m here for you.” She whispered into the darkness.

“I know.”

 _He is going to pay._ She thought angrily.

“Phel?” Em asked, her voice barely a breath. “Don’t tell him.”

“He cares about you, Em. I can tell he does.”

“Just… don’t tell him.” Her voice broke and it took her a few moments of silence to get her breathing controlled again.

“I won’t. Okay? I promise I won’t.” Pheli hugged her sister closer, letting Emerson bury her face in her neck.

They had separate beds since they were out of their crib, but no matter how old they were they always ended up in the same bed, pressed together like when they were in the womb. It was comforting. It slowed their heart rates and made them calm. It helped them sleep.

There was no sleep for Pheli that night. Her eyes were still glued on her sleeping sister when Castiel and Meg stumbled into the tint, trying their best to be quiet, and they were open still when the morning sun bled in through the flaps in the tent.

**-25 Days After-**

 

They were getting into the swing of things at the camp. It was a fortress against evil with large gates and bolts that required keys and a security badge to open. If Emerson talked to Dean, she didn’t tell her sister about it. As far as Pheli was concerned they weren’t even on the same hemisphere.

Emerson was different. She didn’t have to tell Pheli what happened for her to know, and Gordon had done the smart thing and stayed the fuck away. Castiel went on a supply run midweek and came across some materials to fashion the girls a small tent. Sam and Dean were bunking with Garth and Benny. Sam’s feet stuck out of the end of the tent, and although not ideal, it was better than nothing.

The two sisters took up running once Pheli’s ankle was healed. The running seemed to help Emerson. After a run she would smile and look up. They were getting stronger. They’d soon get an assignment to help around camp. There hadn’t been any Rogues in sight since they’d came to the camp, and that was enough for Pheli to make it feel like home.

“You’re getting fast.” Emerson panted, with her hands on her knees. They’d just finished a run around camp. They were still slow, but Pheli was picking up on it quickly and getting better every day.

“I was made to run!” She teased, wiping sweat off her forehead. “I’m going to go see if I can get us some lunch. Meet back at the tent?”

“Sounds good.” Emerson said with a nod, her head still practically between her knees.

Pheli turned and used the rest of her energy to jog toward the main building, next to the medical one. That’s where they sorted through food and determined meals.

“Hey!”

 _Shit_.

“Slow down Sonic, Jesus.” Dean said, grabbing her shoulder.

Pheli turned, elbowing him in the jaw. “Oh my god, _Dean_!?” Her hands flew to her mouth. 

“Damn, Rocky.” He said, rubbing where she hit him.

“Sorry, you snuck up on me.”

“Remind me to announce myself by name next time.”

“Hey.” Pheli snapped. “It’s never been safe for women, now especially. Those self defense classes are finally going to pay off.”

“I’d like to see a Rogue try to take you on. You’d knock their head clean off with that elbow.” He said with a wide grin.

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

“I’m leaving now.” She said, turning on her heels.

“Wait.” He said, quietly, desperately.

“What?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Em won’t see me. I’ve tried. When I walk toward her she runs in the other direction. I want to give her space…”

“So give it to her.”

“I want to. I’m just worried.”

“You seem really worried when you’re hanging out with Lisa.”

“I didn’t ask her to… this isn’t about Lisa. Things are over between us. They have been for a long time.” Dean said, running his fingers through his hair. It was getting shaggy. “I just wanna talk to her.”

“I’ll tell her you were asking. I just don’t think she’s ready.” Pheli said, her heart aching for Dean and for her sister. She didn’t want things to be over for them. They seemed happy.

“Thanks.” He said, and he watched her go.

Love was a fickle thing. It causes weak knees, and yet it expects you to stand. Pheli suspected that was why there were two people involved in love. They can help each other stay upright. Maybe that’s why it was called _falling_. Emerson was out on a tightrope teetering and threatening to fall with no promise of a net below. Pheli was doing her best, but she suspected that nothing would change until they got away from Gordon.

She pushed into the kitchen area, and right into a meeting. Everyone turned and looked at her. “Sorry.” She said, raising a hands “Don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Why not?” Someone complained, glancing back at her. “It is your fault. We have four more mouths to feed. We are running out of food! We need to do another run.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Castiel said through gritted teeth. “We need to take space between our runs so the Rogues can disperse. We don’t want them catching our location.”

“It won’t matter if they find us if we are starved!” Someone else chimed in.

“This isn’t up for discussion.” Castiel snapped.

“Who made you God?!”

“I’ll go, Cas. You know I can take down those motherfuckers.” Gordon said, standing with a sneer.

“Me too.” Pheli chimed in before she could stop herself. “You’re right, it was my group that added more people to feed. We want to pull our weight. I’ll go with Gordon.”

He turned to her with narrowed eyes and she smiled at him wickedly.

“Fine.” Castiel said with a sigh. “I’ll get another pair of volunteers and you’ll go out tomorrow at sunrise.”

“Aye aye captain.” She said turning to leave. She pushed out into the heat of the Summer day, her heart pounding.

_What did I just do?_

Seeing him stand up there in front of her completely unphased by what he’d done made Pheli see red. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was ready to lose it. The idea of being alone with him was enough to cause her impulse to jump into action before she could realize that she was going to be out in the field with the Rogues and with a known rapist.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her knees to catch her breath. Sam was going to kill her. Emerson was going to kill her. She couldn’t tell either of them. They’d try to stop her, and that was her once chance to confront him. She needed to make things right for her sister. If they were going to stay there, they needed to feel safe. Sam always told her that she shouldn’t interfere, that she shouldn’t put her nose in her sisters business, but she couldn’t stop. It wasn’t in her. She knew that when she loved someone she wouldn’t stop fighting for them. Especially when they couldn’t fight for themselves.

 

**-4 Years Ago-**

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I am not supposed to be writing this. It’s inappropriate, but I can’t stop my pen, so here we are. Em didn’t share with me the letter you sent to her, and I think it’s because she’s scared._

_There’s a risk when you fall in love. When you care for someone you give them a piece of yourself and you trust them not to hurt you. I don’t know what happened between both of you, but I’m asking you to not give up on her. Because you’re right, Dean, the moon is always there. No matter what you do. No matter how many times it hides behind clouds or shadow. It’s even there when the sun is out. If what you feel is like the moon, then it won’t go away just because you want it to. It won’t go away just because she asked you to._

_I guess what I’m saying is, the sky looks beautiful, Dean. It’s a little dull right now, but the stars will sparkle again. Sometimes it just takes time, and it’s worth the wait. Trust me._

_Ophelia Maklen_

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of rape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

**-26 Days After-**

 

The morning was cool for June as Ophelia snapped her thigh holster in place. She slid her hand gun into place. She hoisted her shotgun over her shoulder and stuck her blade in her boot. She didn’t like guns, but after her last run in with the Rogues she wasn’t in a position to deny the necessity. Plus, she’d never felt so badass in her life. She left Emerson asleep, hugging her pillow, and made sure to give Sam a really big kiss goodnight. She left him breathless. His love wasn’t lost on her. She could tell that their hearts beat together every time he looked at her.

He wouldn’t approve of her going out in the field, but it wasn’t about him and her, it was about Emerson. At the end of the day it was the Maklen sisters. If they had to pick, it would always be each other. She had to do it for her sister.

Pheli leaned against the tree, waiting for the rest of the group. She sipped her coffee out of her canteen, and focused on the colors in the sky as the sun teased the horizon.  

“Well, Hell in a hand basket, you showed up after all.”

“Ash.” Pheli said with a smile. “Morning.”

“We had a bet runnin that you wouldn’t show up.” He flipped the bottom of his mullet over his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “And whys that?”

He shrugged. “Gender bias, probably.”

Ash was a serious genius. He didn’t look like much in his cut off flannel and mullet, but he went to MIT before it all went to shit. He made the water filter system in the camp and was solely responsible for the gate around the community. He was damn fun at get togethers, too. The first night by the fire he ended up buddying up with her and Sam singing along with Benny. He made a genuine fool out of himself, and that made him okay in Pheli’s book.

“So fucked up.”

“Agreed.” He said, adjusting his machete on his shoulder. “Let’s head to the Jeep. Gordon’s probably already there.”

“Who else is coming?” She asked as they began their walk to the gate where the Jeep was parked.

Ash shrugged, walking with a bit of a bounce in his step. “Hell if I know. People don’t tell me shit. Always be underestimated, Blondie. When you are, it’s really easy to surprise people.” He offered her a wide grin.

“I know exactly what you mean.” She said smoothly.

Her hair was in two braids down her back to keep her hair out of the way. There were no flowers in them that day. There was no time for glitter and pleasantries.

Ash was right. Gordon was already in the front seat, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. “Shot gun!” Ash called with a wide grin, breaking out into a funny, wobbling jog to the Jeep.

Pheli rolled her eyes and picked up her speed. She opened the back door and slid in.

“Surprised you made it.” Gordon grunted from the front seat.

“Lots of that going around.” She said, shifting her weight to keep her knife from digging into her calf.

The door to her right opened up and Dean slid in next to her, wearing a wide ear-to-ear grin. “Ready to go!”

Pheli started at him her heart rate leaping at the sight of him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed through clenched teeth.

“Cas mentioned your heroic volunteering. Couldn’t let you have _all_ the fun.”

“Did you tell Sam?”

“And let him try to follow you? No fucking way.” Dean laughed breathlessly. He reached forward and patted Gordon’s arm, causing Pheli to flinch instinctively. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Ash?” Gordon asked, starting the Jeep.

Ash leaned forward and pressed a garage door opener, causing the gates to spring to life. They opened with a creak and a groan. “Outward and onward.”

Gordon pulled out of the camp and headed back toward the city. “We don’t have many more runs to Dallas. It’s about picked dry.”

“And overrun.” Ash agreed.

“So.” Dean said, leaning close to Pheli. “What’s this about?”

“I wanted to wear the cute thigh holster.” She said, deadpanned.

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, not sounding at all convinced.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before he poked her leg.

“God, _what_?”

“I go by Dean, actually.”

Pheli glared at him. “Was this your plan all along? Trap me in the backseat so I can’t run from you? You want to ask about her. We just talked yesterday. I said…”

“You said you’d talk to her. Did you?”

“She isn’t ready, Dean.”

“Isn’t ready for what?” He asked, weakly. “If you haven’t noticed the world is ending.” He said, gesturing to the wreckage outside the Jeep. “We are on sort of limited time here.”

Pheli sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not my place to tell you. It’s hers, if she wants to.” She said low enough for only him to hear it.

In the front seat Ash sang along to some old cassette tape that was jammed in the Jeep’s radio. It was loud enough to drown them out. She just hoped Gordon wasn’t paying attention.

“I don’t wanna lose her again.”

“You two are so fucking frustrating, you know?”

“Try being a part of it.” He said with a dry laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“We need to cut your hair.”

“What? The long hair is only cute on Sam?” He teased.

“Yes actually.”

“Hurtful, Phel. You’ve got a mean streak. Who would’ve known?”

Gordon turned down the radio and glanced at Dean and Pheli in the rear view mirror. “We are approaching our drop point. We will split in groups of two. Ash has maps of the places around the block that need to be searched and what’s expected to be found in each place. We have a list of supplies that we need, but if you see anything worthwhile grab it. And Ash that doesn’t include skin mags and more ball caps.”

“You have to have culture to have a functioning society, Gordon, you snob.” Ash complained.

“Everyone has been issued a watch. We are staying an hour. That means that when we exit the Jeep, it will be rolling out in sixty minutes. With or without all of us, so make sure you’re back and buckled in before that hour is up. If not, I hope you’re a good runner, because you’ll be footing it back to camp. Keep your guard up, and try not to shoot unless you have to. Sound attracts them. Any questions?”

“Just one.” Pheli said, leaning around the seat.

“What is it?”

“I want to team up with you.”

Gordon shrugged. “Fine.”

“Aw, my ego is fucking bruised, sister.” Dean complained.

“Don’t _sister_ me, Winchester.”

“Alright get your fucking head in the game team.” Gordon said, pulling into downtown. Ash handed the maps along with the packs that were required to make the run.

“Everyone has the same list.” Ash explained. “Just get what you can. Use common sense and you’ll be fine.” He offered a smile before the Jeep rolled to a stop.

“Sixty minutes.” Gordon said, making eye contact with Ophelia in the mirror. “Let’s go.”

 

****

 

Emerson stretched out in bed, reaching out and missing her sisters warmth next to her. “Phel..” She groaned sleepily. When she didn’t get a response, she sat up slowly. The tent was empty.

She rubbed her eyes and stood up, still crouching so her head didn’t graze the top of the tent, and she wrapped her blanket around her. She expected to find her sister cuddled up with Sam, or getting her morning coffee. Pheli was all about her beauty sleep, but ever since the incident with Gordon neither girl was able to sleep well.

She poked her head out of the tent. The camp was quiet, still lulled in the early moments of morning.

She felt dead most of the time. Like Gordon reached up inside of her and pulled out the part of her that was human. The part of her that was alive. She wondered if it was how the Rogue’s felt. Sometimes she felt like she was on autopilot, just doing what was expected. She smiled when it was required, even though it never reached her eyes. She knew that Pheli had to see it, but she didn’t comment on it. She was giving Emerson space and that was truly all she could ask for. She’d successfully dodged Dean since that last moment that they had with Lisa. She couldn’t stand it, looking into his warm green eyes. She couldn’t have him look at her like he wanted to see the sky within her, because the fucking sky was dark. There were no more stars. There was no moon. There was nothing but darkness.

She squinted at the camp. The burning embers left in the fire showed the late night conversations had by old friends. It was the only sign that anyone lived there. Everything else was still.

She took advantage of the stillness to get some coffee and to just befor a bit. She wouldn’t have to act or pretend. She could just sit and fill the hole inside of her with black coffee and dark thoughts. She pulled her blanket tightly to her chest, closing herself into it, as she walked to the coffee cart. She didn’t care if it was last nights brew or if she had to brew it herself, she would suckle the caffeine and try to remember how to be a person, because every day that went by was harder and harder to remember how.

She reached the coffee stand, and picked up the insulated pitcher and poured into one of the available canteens.

“Pour me one?”

Her back stiffened and she turned to see Lisa standing with her baby strapped to her chest. “I was just up getting Ben back to sleep. He gets restless sometimes. A walk usually puts him right back down, but Mommy needs a pick me up.”

“Sure.” Emerson said, forcing a smile. She offered the canteen that she poured for herself. Suddenly coffee didn’t sound as good as it had before.

“Emerson, right?” She took the canteen, and gratefully sipped at it.

“That’s me.” She hugged her blanket around herself, like a protective layer.

“You came with Sam and Dean.”

“You’re observant.”

“You don’t like me much.”

“Very observant.”

Lisa shifted her weight, bouncing Ben. “You know Dean and me…”

“He’s all yours.” Emerson said quickly. “I won’t be standing in your way.” She caught a glimpse of little Bens freckled face, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“I don’t need your permission to pursue him.”

“But you’ve got it anyway.” She forced a smile. “Life is sometimes nice that way. I better get back to bed, Pheli will be looking for me.” She pushed past Lisa, trying to hold everything in. She was the little Dutch boy with her finger in the dam. Any minute now everything would come rushing out, and sweep her away.

“Emerson.” Lisa said, causing Em’s feet to plant in the dirt. She waited for whatever Lisa wanted to say. She didn’t know why. She didn’t owe the woman anything. She wasn’t the bad guy. She was backing down. What else was she expected to do? “It isn’t up to us, you know. Dean was always a complex man, but this part isn’t complicated. He either loves me or he doesn’t. There’s nothing else to it.”

Emerson smiled bitterly to herself. “If you really think that, you’re so much dumber than I thought.”

She didn’t wait for a response, and made her way back to her tent. She didn’t make it a habit of shitting on other women. It wasn’t the way she was raised. Women were allies. They had to stick together, but this time… this time was too much for her. She didn’t have the patience to rise above. She’d lost enough.

She curled up in her blankets, pulling them over her head. She sat under there, and she pulled out her bag. She dug all the way to the bottom and pulled out a notebook and her pen. It was getting close to the end of the notebook. Time had gotten away from her. She clicked the pen a few times, before flipping to an open page.

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I want to go find you. I want to walk over to your tent, pull you out of bed, and shake you until you understand. I need you to understand. More than anything I need things to be different. I need all of this to not have happened. I’ve coped. Haven’t you watched me cope all this time? I got over you. (Am I seriously trying to lie? Way to go, Em) I was a kid when this all started. When I watched you walk away. But I coped. I’m still coping._

_But still I want to go find you. I want to let you remind me what it feels like to be alive. He fucking hurt me, Dean. In a way a person should never have to be hurt. I thought the way that you hurt me was the worst thing I’d ever feel, but losing you… that hurt in my heart. This is different. He reached inside of me and cracked me open. He stole pieces that will not allow me to be whole ever again._

_Part of me wants you to fix it. I know if I asked you to, you would crack pieces of yourself to put me back together, but what would that make me? I can’t give you what I need when I’m like this. Not when I still wake up in a cold sweat feeling his weight on me._

_All I’ve ever been for you is complicated. Things have never been easy. It was never the right time. Who are we to think that this is the right time? During the fucking apocalypse, of all times. You deserve something better. You deserve what I wish I could let myself be._

_I remember the night at the ocean before you left. I remember what I almost… you said you wanted it to be real. I’m not real, Dean. I’m not myself. Not anymore. I’m a shell with Emersons face. The girl you knew is dead._

_I am so sorry for your loss._

_Em_

She closed the notebook, shutting away her letter along with dozens of others from the years that she never sent. That she never had any intention to send. The wall around her heart was complete. Brick by brick. She was a princess in a tower of her own design. A tower with no escape hatch and even when the prince came… she would not let down her hair. She would ignore his calls and pray to a god that wasn’t listening that he would go away. That he will finally leave her to her poison thoughts and shackles. That he would finally leave her alone with the greatest monster of all, herself.

 

****

 

Pheli’s bag weighed heavily on her shoulders as she climbed a set of stairs behind Gordon. They spent the first forty-five minutes finding most things on the list. She’d scored with a huge bottle of low grade pain killers and several canned goods. There was soap and clean underwear tucked in the bottom of her bag. Gifts for Emerson. After everything was over Pheli wanted to burn her old ones. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Gordon wasn’t in a chatty mood. Every time Pheli tried to get him to talk to her long enough to get anything from him, he would just grunt and move on to the next aisle. She was getting really fucking tired of it.

_“So where are you from, Gordon?”_

_“Doesn’t matter. That’s all gone now. Look for some honey. Cas likes it.”_

_Pheli’s eyes narrowed as he rounded a corner to of sight. He knew she was circling him._

“Is there really more stuff up this high?” She asked, gripping the railing as they ascended the stair’s, climbing higher and higher.

“There’s somethin important up here.” He grunted out.

He unlatched the door, swinging it open. His boot crunched as he passed through the threshold. She followed him, stepping into the sunlight. They were on the roof. She frowned and turned to him, watching him latch the door again, locking them up there together.

She crossed her arms. “What the fuck are you doing, Gordon?”

“I’m not stupid, Ophelia. You volunteered because you have something to say to me. So have at it.”

“You presumptuous fuck.”

“Oh so you _don’t_ have anything to say? I sleep with your sister and you don’t care. Great. I was worried that there was something off with you two, but maybe not.”

Bile rose in Pheli’s throat. It stung and bubbled like the rage within her. “You…You…”

“I fucked her. Yeah, I know. It was okay.” He shrugged. “Can’t be too picky around here.”

“You son of a bitch. You _raped_  her.”

“She was flirting with me all night.” He said flatly, approaching Pheli slowly enough that she wasn’t preparing against it. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave her alone when she said _no_.”

“Gotta repopulate the human race. Can’t be so picky.” He shrugged smugly.

“And you can sleep at night with that logic?”

“Like a baby.”

It was so fucking wrong. It was wrong that he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, while Emerson cried in her sleep. It was disgusting. She didn’t feel sick anymore. Her skin was hot, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. It wooshed like the sound of waves at the ocean.

“You fucking men think you can do whatever you want.” She said, closing the space between them.

He reached forward, pushing a loose hair behind her ear. “We don’t think, Princess.” He leaned in to her ear. “We know.”

Something possessed Ophelia in that moment. The girl who was made of cinnamon sugar got a hint of cayenne. Something sparked in her. Maybe it was his hot breath against her neck, or the smug sound of his voice, but something overwhelmed her. It was like she was watching her body from above as she grabbed the back of his neck and slammed her forehead into his, knocking him backwards.

He was taken off guard and he stumbled. Her head pounded in response, but her adrenaline kept her moving forward, her self defense class she took in college bubbling up to the surface. She pulled back and kicked him square in the chest, her leg aching from the strain in her muscle as he fell directly on his back.

His head smacked the concrete of the roof, and he looked up at her shock present on his full lips and wide eyes. “You’re going to regret that, you bitch!”

“I already do.” She said, pressing the heel of her boot to his throat. He gasped in response. “I regret not hitting you sooner. I think you’ve seriously made me stupider since I had to listen to you talk. Is it contagious, Gordon?”

He gurgled, unable to respond due to the boot pressed firmly against his Adam’s apple. He clawed at it, but she had the upper hand. “Tsk tsk. Better not. It doesn’t take much pressure at all to break that little ball in your throat. I wonder what the survival rate of that is in a post apocalyptic world?” She smiled, saying it all a little too sweetly, as she pulled his gun off the holder on his belt. She tossed it away, and it clanked as it skipped across the ground.

She pulled her shot gun off her shoulder and loaded it, cocking it into place with a sharp click. “Get on your fucking knees, and don’t try anything funny.” She said, removing her foot.

He immediately gasped, clawing at his throat as a breath flowed back through him.

“Now, you son of a bitch. _Knees_!”

He complied, climbing up to his knees. She pressed the shot gun barrel to his head, directly between his eyes. “No.” He muttered between snotty tears. His hands came up in front of his chest, his palms facing her in surrender. “D…don’t do it. I’ll apologize.”

“But you aren’t sorry, Gordon. That’s the problem. People like you just take what they fucking want no matter what the cost. You hurt my sister.”

“I did.” He sobbed, his voice trembling. Clear snot rolled down out of his nose and onto his lip.

There was no satisfaction for Pheli in his tears.

“You have to pay for that Gordon.”

“You aren’t a killer, Ophelia. Don’t do this.”

She laughed, causing the barrel of the gun to tremble against his skull. The cool metal leaving an indention on his skin. “Maybe not, but there’s no law anymore. There’s no justice. There are just people and monsters. The people kill the monsters, and from the little time I’ve known you, it’s pretty obvious to me what side you’re on.”

“I’m not a monster! I… I will be a better man…I’ll…”

“It’s too late for that, Gordon.” Pheli said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Make peace with whatever god you believe in.”

There was something tragic about the loss of innocence. The loss of faith in humanity. The loss of hope. Pheli stared down the length of her shotgun and said goodbye to the part of her that was human. Because he was right. She wasn’t a killer, but if it was between her sister and her innocence it was an easy pick.

She wouldn’t be the girl with flowers in her hair anymore, but maybe that was okay. Maybe it was time for her to retire her braids and grow the fuck up.

She pulled the gun off his skin, just back far enough.

“ _Please.._.” He begged, as her finger rested on the trigger. “I had a sister, too. I lost her. I lost her. I lost…”

_Bang!_

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “He touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.” - Richard Siken

**-26 Days After-**

Pheli’s boots banged down the stairs, her heart thrumming in her chest and her ears ringing from her close proximity to the gunshot. She couldn’t believe she pulled the trigger. Her hands were still shaking. At least it was finally over. Her watch beeped at her wrist, telling her that her hour was up. “Fuck!” She shouted, hopping steps, gripping the handrail. She ran, pushing forward, until she made it out into the street.

The Jeep was running, but hadn’t left three minutes later by some miracle. She flung open the back door and slid in. “Let’s go!” She said breathless, still trying to catch her breath from the run.

Dean frowned at her. “Where’s Gordon?”

“It’s been sixty-four minutes, do you not follow directions?” Pheli asked, patting Ash’s shoulder. “Lets _go_!”

Ash looked back at her with a frown. “What happened back there? Where’s Gordon? We heard a shot…”

“He’s gone.” Pheli said flatly through clenched teeth. “We need to go. It isn’t safe.”

Ash exchanged a look with Dean in the rear view mirror and put the Jeep in drive.

Pheli watched the city bleed past her as Ash pressed play on his cassette. Her hands gripped hers and Gordons packs that sat on her lap. Dean took her trembling fingers from their tight grip on the fabric of the bag, and into his hand. “Rogues?” He asked her softly.

That would be easier, wouldn’t it? He could’ve been overrun, but she wouldn’t have escaped. They’d question that. A good hunter compared to a girl who still owns lipgloss in an apocalypse, who would believe that he was taken down? She tried to focus on her breathing.

“I can talk to Cas when we get back.” Dean offered.

He was too nice. Would he still offer if he knew what Pheli did? She felt sick to her stomach. “I’ll handle it.” She told him. It was time that she started doing things for herself.

They didn’t speak the rest of the ride. She just looked out the window and tried to think about how things would be better. She was still convincing herself as they pulled up to the camp. She hopped out of the Jeep before it came to a complete stop. “I’ll take the bag.” Dean said cautiously.

“Take Gordon’s too. I was able to grab it before…” She stopped herself.

“You got it.”

She nodded thankfully to him and jogged back to her tent. She opened the flap slowly to find Emerson curled up and still asleep, like she never left. She smiled at her sister, and shedded herself of her weapons and boots. Pheli climbed under the blankets and snuggled in close to her sister. “Em.” She whispered, pressing a kiss on her nose. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I took care of it.”

Emerson’s eye slowly opened, confusion flooding her face. “What?”

“You won’t ever see him again.”

“Pheli, what did you do?”

Ophelia pushed Emerson’s hair out behind her ear. “I just wanted you to know that it’s okay now. He’s gone, and we will never see him again.”

 

****

 

“So I’ve been thinking.” Dean said, leaning against the tree outside of Emerson’s tent.

“ _God_ , Dean!” She shouted, holding her chest. She’d been inside of the tent long after Pheli left to go visit Sam. She was only leaving, because her growling stomach was keeping her awake.

“Man, you Maklen girls gotta stop calling me God, it’s just awkward.”

“You’re so annoying.” Emerson huffed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears.

“Like I said before you so rudely interrupted, I’ve been thinking.”

“Well that’s never a good sign.” She said, crossing her arms.

“Hurtful.” He raised an eyebrow.

“So you just wanted me to know that you were thinking? I know it’s rare, but not exactly news worthy.”

“No.” He said, grabbing her hand before she could walk away. She winced and looked down at their hands. “I wanted to talk. I was thinking we needed to talk. There’s been a big misunderstanding…”

She pulled her hand from his. “Dean…”

“Come on.” He said quietly, stepping closer to her.

She fought the urge to run, digging her heels in the dirt. She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t afraid of Dean, but it was hard to when he was blocking her way.

“Just five minutes, Em. I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t want it to end like this. Not when this… not when we just got started.”

Her eyes flickered to his, and she swallowed the ball in her throat. “Five minutes.” She agreed.

“Come with me.” He offered her a hand, and she crossed her arms in response, but nodded to indicate that she would still follow him.

Dean put his hand in his pocket instead and walked toward the back of the camp. It was dusk, the sky a deep shade of blue, lit and glowing from the sun that hung low on the horizon. It was the time when day kissed the night. Emerson felt a chill run up her spine despite the heat of Summer that still was heavy in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

They reached a solid portion of wall and Dean settled his foot in a crack in the wall and effortlessly hoisted himself up to sit on top of it, favoring his uninjured knee. He reached a hand out to Emerson, and she stared at his palm and extended fingers. “What are you doing?”

“Come on.” He said quietly, offering her a vulnerable smile. “I’m doin a thing.”

She sighed heavily.

She used to be afraid of Dean. She was afraid of the potential for pain. She saw him from the roof, sneaking out back to smoke a cigarette. She saw him kissing girls, pressing them up against the door of the Impala after he learned how to drive. She wouldn’t be one of _those_ girls. She wouldn’t give in to the wiles of someone like Dean Winchester. She knew by looking at him that he could destroy her. It was easy to keep him at a distance then, before she really knew him, but as she looked at his hand and his kind face reaching to her, she knew she shouldn’t be afraid.

She placed her hand in his and let him pull her up. The wall was thicker than she expected, and she was able to easily settle on to it. It was about three feet wide, and she settled close enough to the edge for her feet to dangle. Dean did the same, his pinky brushing hers. “Alright, you’ve got me up here, what now?”

“Now we watch.” He said quietly, pointing at the glowing sky, and the stars that were appearing out of the darkness. “We haven’t really looked up since all of this started, have we?”

“This is what you want to talk about?” She complained. “You have five minutes and you want to talk about the sky…”

“Em.” He placed his hand on hers. “Just look, okay?”

She sighed again and turned her face up. Without the lights from the city, the clear sky was glistening with flakes of sparkling white. Little twinkles winked hello at them. There was still a hint of the sun on the horizon, but yet she was able to see the stars better than she ever did in the city. “Wow.” She whispered. The sight knocked the breath right out of her body.

“I figured we always had our best talks on your roof lookin at the stars. I missed that the most when I went away.”

Her eyes flickered from the speckled night sky to his face. He looked at Emerson like she imagined her face looked like when she saw those stars. His lips were parted, emitting shallow breaths, his cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were wide. “I missed it, too. I stopped going out there when you left.”

“I never wanted that. I didn’t want your life to change when I left.”

“But it did, Dean.” Emerson snapped a bit. “We were never together, but we were never apart either. You were always there, even when I didn’t want you to be. How was I supposed to just keep things the same when a permanent fixture in my life was gone? That’s fucking ridiculous.”

A grin grew on Dean’s face and he laughed a bit to himself. “I think I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” She asked, pulling her hand away from his so she could cross her arms.

“How cute you are when you’re mad at me. When I was away I always tried to picture your face, but it was never quite right. It’s this… this is what I was tryin to remember.”

“Well, I’m glad my annoyance is entertaining to you.” She huffed, turning back to the sky. “Is that all, Dean?” Her heart was tired, and the darker it got the more the fear bubbled up inside of her. It had gotten so much worse since Pheli said she’d taken care of it. Emerson knew that couldn’t be good, but she hadn’t figured out how to get the answers that she needed.

“No, that’s not all.” Dean said, clearing his throat. “This shit with Lisa… it’s caught me off guard, and I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to ever see her again and then there she was…”

“I get it, Dean. I saw the baby… he’s…”

“He’s not mine.”

“He could be. You wanted him to be, and it may be your only chance at a family. She’s single.”

Deans face scrunched up, his nose wrinkling, and his eyebrows coming together. “You’re not seriously suggesting that.”

“I am.”

“I don’t want to be with Lisa.”

“Can’t forgive her?”

“Don’t want to.” Dean grunted, staring at Emerson. He was waiting for her to turn her head and look at him, but she was planted with her chin up toward the stars.

“Seems unreasonable.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” He groaned in annoyance.

“Aww, I forgot how cute it was when you were annoyed with me.” She said flatly.

“Touché.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m serious, Em. Lisa was never… she was never right for me. She was just there in my darkest time. She was there after my accident when I needed someone the most.”

 

**-2 Years Before-**

 

“Where is he?” Emerson asked as she ran through the hallway at the hospital.

Mary Winchester stood up from her chair in the waiting room, her tissue against her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs. John was nowhere to be found, but that was no real surprise.

Sam took his mother into his arms and they cried together. “He’s strong, Mom… he will make it… he…”

They were watching a movie at the dorm when they heard. Dean was in an accident. Some kind of explosion, and he was stable enough to be transferred back to the states for surgery. They didn’t have any other information. She felt sick, like the room was spinning. It was the feeling of being too drunk. It wasn’t fun, just dizzying. She gripped ahold of the arm rest of a chair and closed her eyes.

She wanted to channel anger and annoyance like she usually did when it came to him, but how could she when he was hurt? Her legs shook and she fell to her knees. He told her he thought he would die out there. His words from so long ago rang in her ears. _“Part of me thinks I’m gonna die out there.”_ She gripped the small lobby trash can that was next to her and vomited.

It all seemed so stupid. All the times they fought, all the times that she pushed him away even though she wanted to pull him closer. She wanted to go back in time and beg him to stay. She wanted to kiss him at Happy Fun Land. She wanted to take it all back, so then at least if he died they would’ve had that time. Now they had nothing but missed opportunities and mistakes.

 

****

 

He came out of surgery a few agonizing hours later. They only allowed one visitor at a time in the ICU, so Mary went in, then Sam. Emerson and Pheli sat in the waiting room with their hands tangled together.

“He’s out of surgery, this is good.” Pheli said gently.

“Yeah.” Emersons voice was small.

“You know he won’t die, Em. He’s got to live another day to annoy you.”

“Sounds like something he’d say.”

“It is something he’d say. I’m sure he will tell you it himself when he’s awake.”

Emerson’s nose and eyes burned from the tears she was holding back, and her chest felt like it was in knots. “What if he… what if he doesn’t wake up, Phel? He was in an explosion… and the last thing I said to him was that talking to him was a mistake.”

“When was that?”

“Christmas senior year.”

“When you left the house? I knew it!”

“He just…” She let out a desperate gasp. She was drowning. She couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Hey, hey.” Pheli said, alarmed. She turned and grabbed the paper bag that held their earlier dinner order, and put it up to Emerson’s lips. “Breathe, come on. You’re hyperventilating.”

Emerson breathed into the bag. In and out. In and out. In and out until she was steady again. Until the tears stopped streaming down her cheeks. “Sometimes I think I’ve done everything wrong.”

“You’ve done your best.” Pheli promised quietly.

“I haven’t. I should’ve done more… I should’ve…”

Sam came into the waiting room, causing both of the girls  to sit up straighter. “How is he?” Ophelia asked, because Emerson couldn’t find the words.

“He’s… he’s stable right now. The surgery went well, but they’re worried about infection. He was…” Sam’s voice cracked and it took him a moment to recompose himself before he met Emerson’s eyes. “He was left out there for a few days before someone found him. There’s a lot of damage, but they hope he will walk again.”

Her stomach dropped. She didn’t know what to say. The words hadn’t been created to describe what she was thinking. Or if they had, she didn’t remember them. She wasn’t even squeezing Pheli’s hand anymore. Her fingers were just limp inside of her sisters.

“Is he awake?” Pheli asked.

“No. They’re keeping him sedated… they say he will be in a lot of pain.”

“Can I see him?” Emerson found herself asking, before she could stop herself. She wasn’t family. She wasn’t his girlfriend. They didn’t exactly end amicably. She never sent him a letter back. She didn’t deserve to see him, but yet.

“That’s why I was coming out. I’m going to take Mom home. I was hoping you would sit with him. Phel, you mind driving? I don’t think I should.”

“Of course.” The girls said at once, and Pheli reached for Sam’s hand.

“Room eight” He told Emerson, before they hurried off to grab Mary.

She stared down the hallway and his room seemed miles away. She suddenly felt very small, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t the one hurt. He was. So Emerson walked to him like she should have a thousand times before.

Sam didn’t prepare her, but when she looked at him she didn’t know how she would’ve taken it, knowing ahead of time. Dean Winchester wasn’t a small man. He towered over six feet tall, and he always had a thicker frame. He could’ve been a body guard or a football player, so it was heart stopping to see him laying a hospital bed looking so small. She approached him slowly, as if her presence would disturb him somehow.

There was a tube down his throat, and tape on his chin. His lips were chapped and cracked. He looked so pale. There were tubes going out all over him, and his leg was out and wrapped up in a metal contraption to keep it in place. The more she looked at him, the more stitches and cuts she found. He was bruised and beaten.

She pulled up the chair next to him and lowered herself onto it. “Dean.” Her voice came out small, like a child’s. “It’s me… Em, I don’t know if you can hear me.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back her emotion, and find the words all in one motion.

She decided to go with what was the most familiar. Something that was easy. “You just have to get all the attention, don’t you?” She forced a smile. “God, that’s so annoying. We didn’t forget about you, so you really didn’t need to go and get blown up to make a statement.”

Her fingers found his. There was still dirt under his nails. Why didn’t anyone clean them?

“This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve done to get me to come to you, but I’m here. Guess I’m the sucker, always falling for your tricks.” Her thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.

Her chest was tight and she sucked in a breath. She was suddenly aware of the sterile air, the constant beeps and hums of the machines. She wondered if he even smelled like himself and if he ever would again. “I told you not to die. You didn’t listen. God why don’t you ever listen? I’m so mad at you… I’ve been mad at you for a long time now, but this… I won’t be able to ever forgive you if you die. You hear me, Winchester? You know me, I have ways… I’ll…” She lifted his hand and pressed a kiss on the back of his hand. “I won’t survive that. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? If I lose you it’ll fucking break me. I know we aren’t… I know I didn’t write you back. I know the night you left was… I just know, okay? I know we aren’t in love. We aren’t together or meant to be or any of that shit that Pheli is obsessed with, but knowing that you’re out there just makes my life a little better. If I knew you were gone it’d just… it’d be a goddamn tragedy.” She reached forward and touched his cheek.  

“I don’t believe in all that stuff. The stuff that people write romance books about, but you… Dean I could write a book about you.” She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

After a week Sam and Pheli had to go back to school. He was studying Pre Law and he couldn’t miss anymore class. Mary went back to work. Evidentially when the boys moved out of the house she kicked John out. Emerson was proud of her for that, and she knew Dean would be, too, if he didn’t already know.

Everyone left, except for Emerson.

Most of the next two weeks he was sedated. He developed an infection in his leg, and it was touch and go for awhile. They thought he would lose the leg.

“You aren’t losing this leg, Dean. You hear me?” Emerson said sternly. “I won’t let them cut it off, so you have to fight.”

She told him to, and he did. He had another surgery, and despite how mangled it looked, he was able to keep the leg.

“We can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for this family, Emerson.” Mary said, as she offered Em a cup of coffee.

“It’s no problem, really.” She said awkwardly, shifting on her feet. She blew on the coffee before taking a sip. “If It were me he would be up here annoying me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

“He was always a little lost on you.”

Emerson coughed in surprise, her coffee shooting down her wind pipe. “I.. what… how do you mean?”

Mary smiled bashfully, looking down. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. He was always looking at you through the window, or when he was working on the car. I thought you were much too young for him, but that was then. Age is more of a number the older you get, don’t you think? When he convinced Sam to ask out your sister, I was sure it was the start of something, but he is shy.”

“Dean never came across as shy to me.”

“He acts very confident, but most of it is a show. It’s a distraction from what’s real. It’s easier than being vulnerable. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have.” Emerson said quietly, her cheeks warming up. “I just didn’t think… I don’t know. I thought it was all a game.”

“With you? No, sweetheart. It never was a game. Girls come and go, but you never have.” She offered a warm smile and pulled Emerson into a hug.

She left as quickly as she came, like she always did. Emerson watched her go with a wave and went back to Deans room. She opened the door and her coffee fell from her hand and crashed to the floor. “Dean?”

He was sitting up in bed, just barely propped up by a few pillows, but there he was. He was awake. He smiled at her. “Hey Sweetheart.”

“Oh my god.” She sloshed through the coffee and closed the space between them. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty.” He admitted.

She reached for her water cup and placed the straw at his lips. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He said After a few satisfying sips. “What happened, Em? I’m not dead, am I?”

“What? No… There was an accident… an explosion.” She pressed her lips together. She hoped for the moment that he would wake up. The moment he would smile at her, but she didn’t know what to say, not really. Nothing seemed like enough. “Sam got the call when we were all together, and I came. Of course I came.”

Dean smiled a bit. “Well that’s a fuckin relief. I was sure I was dead. Looked like heaven in here.” He tilted his head to the side.

“You’re medicated.” She said, trying to meet their usual snark, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She couldn’t hide how happy she was to see him up and talking.

“Missed me, huh? Couldn’t wait to run to my side.”

“That’s it.” She rolled her eyes. “Can’t stay away from you anymore, Dean. I’m head over heels.”

“Knew it.”

“God, some things never change.”

Deans face softened, his shoulders wilting. “Aw, Em. Hey, it’s okay.”

She reached up and touched her cheek. She was crying. When the fuck did that happen?

“I’ll try to not be such an ass…”

“No… Don’t. I’m glad it didn’t change. I’m glad you’re still you.”

“‘Mere.” He said, opening his arms.

Emerson moved before she could really stop herself, and she allowed herself to sit next to him opposite his bad leg.

“Nah, all the fuckin way.” He said, widening his arms and gesturing for her to come closer with his fingers. “I won’t break, promise.”

“You don’t know that.” She grumbled, but complied, laying down curled against his side.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “Thanks for bein here.”

“There’s nowhere else for me to be but here.”

“How long has it been?”

“Almost a month.”

He frowned deeply. “Where are we? Shouldn’t you be in school…”

“No.” She said, sitting up a bit to look at him. “Everyone else had to go back. Your mom… Sam. I told you, I have nowhere else to be but here. I wasn’t going to leave you to fight alone.”

Dean looked at her, shaking his head with a  smile growing on his lips. He brushed her hair behind her ear with his fingers. “You’re something else, Emerson Maklen.”

“You already knew that.”

“I must’ve forgot, because this… I dunno, this feels new.”

She had an unbelievable urge to kiss him in that moment. To hear the heart monitor on his finger send his pulse leaping. She wanted to feel him smile against her mouth and pull her closer, but there was time. Looking at Dean awake and smiling, laying in his arms, it felt like they had all the time in the world, so she laid her head back on his chest. “It’s not new.” She murmured.

They laid like that, her head on his chest, and his arms wrapped around her for what seemed like a life time.

They listened to the beeps of the monitors like rain on a tin roof. Emerson was so used to the sounds of the room, the chatter of doctors and nurses, the lights and beeps, the drips of his IV that it was almost soothing to her. She closed her eyes and thought that maybe; just maybe things would finally work out. After everything they’d been through it felt easy, it felt so damn easy. It felt like it was always like that, and would always be like that.

Emerson thought seriously then about telling him. She thought out the words in her head to say everything she’d wanted to say all those times that she held back, because there was love and then there was her and Dean. There wasn’t a name for it, and she was thankful that there wasn’t a monitor showing her heartbeat. It was flying away, a fluttering bird against her ribcage. She was desperate to know if he felt it, too.

She opened her mouth to tell him, to take the leap, the risk, because they were worth it. She opened her mouth to tell him, and his arm that rested on her hip fell limp next to her. She thought he’d fallen asleep at first, until she heard the endless beepof the monitor flat-lining.

It all happened so fast, in a blur. She sat up and saw his lips turning blue-gray. She blinked at him and before she could process, a team pushed into the room. A nurse removed her from the bed and another started CPR. They pushed on his chest hard, rhythmically. Emerson knew CPR. She learned for her mom, but yet she didn’t. It didn’t even occur to her. She just sat there, useless. “What happened?” She found herself asking. She wasn’t even crying. She was in shock.

“Somebody get her out of here!”

Emerson was pulled out, fingers wrapping around her biceps, taking her back out into the hallway. The door clicked shut, and she fell to the floor, her back pressed against the wall.

He had a Pulmonary Embolism. He threw a clot in his leg, and it caused cardiac arrest. His heart stopped right as Emerson was memorizing the sound of it beating. His heart stopped, and she just stared at him like an idiot. She couldn’t bring herself to call Sam and tell him that she felt Dean die. She couldn’t tell him that she felt his life leave his body.

Thankfully, for her, she didn’t have to. The staff got his heart back beating and started him on medication to dissolve the clot. He was sedated again. They called Mary, and she called Sam.

It felt like the pirate ship ride at Happy Fun Land. It was a massive boat with benches that swung back and forth. The higher it swung, the more the patrons felt like they were falling. Emerson lost her stomach. She felt like she was swinging higher and higher. She worried she would hit the stars and disappear. It was an eternal swing at the hospital. The moment it looked like things were evening out, it would swing the opposite way again. She wanted to get off the fucking ride.

Ophelia, Sam, and Mary arrived at the hospital later that night, but Emerson still felt impossibly alone.

Dean woke up two days later, but when Emerson asked Dr. Ramsey if she could see him, he informed her that Dean didn’t want visitors. He was back in the ICU, and he removed everyone’s name from his approved visitor list. Even Sam. He wanted to be alone.

“I don’t understand.” Emerson’s voice cracked. “I’ve been here the whole time… Why doesn’t he want me there now?”

Dr. Ramsey sighed, and he took Emerson’s hand. It was a kindness, but it felt more like a betrayal. “He doesn’t remember much from the last month, if anything at all. He was very out of it from all of the medication. We were prepared for that possibility.”

They’d discussed it before, but to call her prepared was a bit of an exaggeration.

“But he was awake…”

“I know this is difficult, but this was his decision. It’s not uncommon for short term memory loss after a major cardiac episode.”

“Will he ever remember?” She asked, her heart sinking through her chest, and stomach into the floor.

“There’s always a possibility, but it’s unlikely. I’m so sorry.”

 _“There’s nowhere else for me to be but here.”_ Emerson grabbed her bag and walked out of the hospital, not turning back no matter how much she wanted to.

 

**-26 Days After-**

 

“I understand.” Emerson said softly, staring back out into space. It was impossible to see the city scape in the darkness.

“I don’t think you do. Just because she was there then doesn’t mean she didn’t throw everything away. Doesn’t mean I owe her…”

“You don’t owe me, either. I wasn’t there, after all.”

“That isn’t what this is about.” He sighed. “This is coming out all wrong.”

“Things usually happen the way they’re supposed to, Dean. It isn’t a coincidence that she’s here, it can’t be.” Emerson said, trying to lean into the idea that her distance was from Lisa. She wished it was that simple.

“The universe is a sick fuck, that’s all.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on.”

“Let’s not let it ruin this.”

“It already has.” She murmured into the breeze.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars.” - E.E. Cummings

**-26 Days After-**

 

Emerson turned away from him, gripping the edge of the wall. She shimmied down side, her foot hooking in the crack that they used to get up in the first place.

“It isn’t ruined. How can you say it’s already ruined?” Dean asked, staring at her hard.

Her feet hit the ground.

“Em, hey, wait.” His feet hit the ground behind her, and he reached out a hand for her.

“What, Dean?” She asked, turning to him. “What?”

“You really think that it’s over? Because of _this_? Because of Lis?”

“Dean have you ever thought that it isn’t supposed to be like this?”

He frowned and stepped toward her, but she stepped away. Distance was best for them, she decided.

“Like what?” He asked quietly.

“So goddamn hard? It isn’t supposed to be this hard… all of this back and forth. The _will they won’t they._ Dean, it isn’t supposed to hurt like this. It isn’t like this for Pheli and Sam.”

“We aren’t Pheli and Sam.”

“I know.” Emerson said, but it sounded to Dean like she didn’t know. She couldn’t know, because if she knew, then wouldn’t she know that being Ophelia and Sam wasn’t the goal? _They_ were the goal. Him and her. There was no one else he would rather be. “But since we are us… we will always be this way. We will always be in the in between. You said I was the sky, in not so many words. But you’ve only ever looked at the sky at night. I’ve only let you see it at night. If you’re going to be with someone you can’t be with them half way, you know? I’m not blaming you. It isn’t your fault. It isn’t Lisa… I just see her, and I know that with her you could have all of it. You’ll never have that with me. So it’s better that it all ends now, before it ever really begins. I can’t give you the day and the night. I can’t, and I won’t.”

She turned away to hide the pain on her face. Endings were always the hardest part, and they’d always been running downhill toward this end. She knew it from the beginning. She was tripping and falling the whole way down.

“Em, wait.”

“What?” She asked before turning her head. “What else could you possibly have to say?”

He wanted to fight. He knew that’s what Sam would do. He wouldn’t walk away, but Sam was a goddamn doormat. Emerson was right. They weren’t Ophelia and Sam. If she didn’t want to be with him he couldn’t make her. He wouldn’t make her. All pushing does is hurt. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore than he already had. “Nothing.” He forced a smile, like everything inside wasn’t crumbling. As if a small breeze wouldn’t make him fall apart. “Just wanted to make sure you’d still be around. Just in the normal way. Friends and all that.”

“Of course I will be around. You’re Dean. Don’t think I can completely cut you out. That’d be wrong.”

“And you’re Emerson.”

“Just like I always was.” She turned her head again to go, but he stopped her one last time.

“Sky is beautiful tonight though, ain’t it?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and you always did have pretty eyes, Dean Winchester.”

She shut the book, just like that, and he let her. He released the line between them, and when she walked away he didn’t stop her. He just watched her disappear back toward the camp, his hand over his chest, as if the pressure would stop his heart from breaking.

 

****

 

“Phel we need to talk.” Emerson said, stepping into the tent. It was dark inside, but she could make out her sister from the lantern that was lit.

“I see you got out of the tent today.” Pheli said with a wide smile. “I’m really glad.”

“We need to talk.”

“Jeez, okay. You’ve got your serious face on, what’s up?”

“You said… you said you took care of it. What do you mean by that, Phel?”

Ophelia pulled her knees to her chest. “You really want to get into this?”

“I do.” Emerson frowned. “What? You thought I’d just accept that answer with a grain of salt and never bring it up again?”

“I kind of hoped you would.”

“What did you do, Ophelia?” Emerson asked, lowering herself to a seated position in front of her sister. She took Pheli’s hands in her own. “Tell me.”

“I… I took care of him. I want on a supply run with some of the guys…”

“You did what? Are you fucking crazy? When?”

“This morning.”

Emerson’s head throbbed. She knew that there was a huge chance that she could’ve lost her sister while she was asleep, while she was talking to Lisa. It made her want to throw up. “That was really fucking stupid.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you I volunteered. I’m capable, Em.”

“It isn’t about being capable! This isn’t the school musical or a homecoming committee, Phel. This is life and death.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Pheli hissed through clenched teeth. “I know that. Trust me.” She instinctively rubbed the hand print scar on her ankle from where she was grabbed.

Emerson let the anger that welled up inside of her calm a bit. Everything was okay. Pheli came out unscathed as far as she could tell. “So, you went on a supply run. Then what happened?”

“I was partners with Gordon. I wanted to confront him.”

Em curled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms as her heart rate skyrocketed. “You could’ve been hurt.”

“I was armed.”

“So was he, and he’s strong Phel…”

Pheli reached forward and grabbed her sisters hands. “I know, Em. I just… he needed to pay.”

She nodded and wiped the tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. “You were partners.”

“We went up to the roof and he latched the door. He wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“He assumed I was there to confront him. He just… he said horrible things, Em. He is a disgusting person. I just… I had my gun and suddenly I hit him. I was pointing it at him.” She pressed her lips together, her hands trembling.

“You killed him.”

Pheli avoided her eyes.

“Phel you killed him? My god.” Emerson covered her mouth and stood up. She paced for a second before turning back to her sister. “I didn’t want… I just can’t believe… god…”

“I wanted to protect you.” Pheli was crying now. Her hands were shaking. “I knew what I had to do. He would’ve done it again…”

“I am an adult, Phel. I can handle my own problems! I can’t believe you did this… confronted him. That was so risky, and what about now? What happens now?”

“I know you can, but you’d do it for me. We protect each other. I just saw you so broken… he ruined everything. You were finally happy, and Dean keeps begging me to see you…”

“That’s over.” Emerson crossed her arms.

“I hoped… I hoped getting rid of Gordon would change that.”

“It isn’t just about him.” She said, wincing at the sound of his name. She knew that she wouldn’t be sleeping that night. “Dean and I… not everyone gets happily ever after. It’s just not in the cards. I couldn’t give him enough of me before the assault. Now there’s nothing left to give. He deserves more than that.”

“You deserve more than this.”

Emerson locked eyes with her sister. “I do.” She agreed. “But people keep taking my choices away from me. So I’m just left with this. This is the end, Phel. It’s time we just accept that.”

 

****

 

“How’d it go?” Sam asked his brother as he walked up to their original tree. Sam sat below it, cleaning their guns. He didn’t know what else to do with his time. He had a new sensation for the first time since being pre-law, he was bored.

“It’s over, man.” Dean said, slumping down next to his brother.

“Over?”

“Yup. C’est la vie.”

Sam put down the piece he was cleaning and turned toward Dean. “That’s bullshit. No way.”

“You like to hear me repeat myself, Sammy? Come on, give a guy a break.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache.

“What happened?”

“Dunno. She claims that it’s not about Lis. She said she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want me. Can’t make her want me, man, no matter how much I want her to.”

“I just… after all this time, man, I was sure that she wanted to be with you. I thought the back and forth was just a game. I really did.”

Dean sighed. “So did I. Deep down, ya know? Just me thinkin I’m not good enough and her pushin me away. Maybe she was keeping me at arms length, because she really wanted me to stay away from her? I can’t take a fuckin hint, apparently.”

“Maybe Phel can…”

“Nah. I don’t want her to. I want to respect Em’s choices. I should be the good guy, for once.”

Sam slapped his brothers shoulder and squeezed. “You’re always a good guy, Dean. Pain in the ass, but you’re a good guy. What about Lisa?”

“What about her?”

“She still wants you. That’s pretty obvious.”

“I don’t want her, though.” Dean said, digging in his jacket for his flask. There wasn’t much left, but being rejected so completely made him ache for something to numb his senses, even for just a second. “She’s not the one. She never was the one.”

**-5 Years Before-**

 

It was Emerson’s first day of senior year. Sam woke up early and surprised Pheli with breakfast, it was their first day tradition. That left Emerson to a cold breakfast burrito and a languid walk to school. It wasn’t a big deal. She could’ve taken the bus, but she had a lot to mull over. Her head still pounded from the party on the pier. She wrapped her arms around herself. She’d done such a good job of keeping Dean out of the soft places within her, but somehow he still got in. He wiggled in through the cracks and made them bigger. She was spilling out of them.

She turned a corner toward the school when she felt a yank on her backpack, sending her flying backwards. She screamed, high and quick from shock. Her back was pressed against a tree, and when her eyes finally focused she saw that she was nose to nose with Dean Winchester. “Christ!” She said, slapping his chest. “You scared me.”

“Em.”

“Dean?”

“Skip school today.”

She frowned, eyeing him. “It’s my first day. I can’t.”

“It’s your first day, you _can_.” He insisted, eagerly. “You won’t have any homework. You won’t miss anything.”

She could smell cigarettes on his breath and it made her nose curl up. “I might. I can’t skip.”

“You can.” He sighed, resting his palm next to her head. “But you won’t.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t. What’s so wrong with that? I value my education… I value…” _My heart_. She thought, selfishly.

“I get it.” He sighed, moving his arm back to his side.

She grabbed his forearm and bore her eyes into his. “Why do you want me to skip today?”

His tongue darted out across his bottom lip, like he was trying to find the right words. “I’m runnin out of time, okay?”

Emerson couldn’t help but smile. His eyes looked so green next to the grass and the leaves from the tree. The nature framed him like a picture. “And you couldn’t get any of your other girlfriends to spend the day with you?”

He frowned, his eyebrows coming together. “Don’t have any other girlfriends.”

“You? Come on, Dean. You don’t have to keep pretending…”

“Whose pretending?”

She let go of his forearm, his skin white for a beat as her tight grip disappeared. “Why me? Can’t be just because of Phel and Sam.”

He smiled, letting out a breath. “You… it’s you, because when we were kids, I tried to touch your butt, and you punched me in the face. You broke my goddamn nose. You were this little scrappy thing with braces. You didn’t take my shit, and you don’t take it now. You’re just special, Em.”

She searched his face and as far as she could tell he was being genuine. “One day.” She agreed. “Just fucking one. So don’t screw it up.”

“Yes m’am.” He said with a grin, taking her hand in his. He lead her to the Impala and opened the passenger door for her.

She slid in and tossed her backpack into the backseat. He slid in next to her and started the car. “Where are we going?” She asked him.

“It’s called a surprise, Em.”

She rolled her eyes. “I _hate_ surprises, Dean.”

“Lighten up.” He popped in a cassette tape and sang along.

Emerson smiled and kicked off her converse, placing her bare feet on the dash. She rolled down the window and let the warm air cover her. She wasn’t the kind of girl that went with the flow, but she decided that day would be different.

He got on the highway near the beach and drove along the coast. Emerson breathed in the warm, salty air. She turned and caught him looking at her. “What?”

“I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Relaxed. It’s a good look on you.”

Emerson waived him off dismissively and turned back to the blue of the ocean. She could look at it forever. She always felt the most at peace near the water. She closed her eyes, to let the heat of the sun soak into her skin, and the ocean waves rock her to sleep.

“Hey.” Dean whispered. “We’re here.”

“Hm?” She asked, sitting up slowly, blinking. Where the hell was she?

She looked around. They were on a bridge in what looked like the middle of nowhere. She squinted at Dean, and then it all came back to her. He convinced her to skip school. _Shit_. She sat up straight, alarmed. “Where are we?”

“Come on.” He said, with a smile. He offered her a hand, as he got out of the car.

He guided her out to the bridge where she found more people gathered at the edge of the bridge. They were strapping a man around his ankles and hips. “What’s going on?” Emerson asked.

“Ready!” The man said, with a huge grin, as he hoisted himself over the railing of the bridge.

Emerson’s eyes widened and she grabbed Deans hand instinctively. “What the…”

The man screamed as he let himself tumble over the edge. Emerson let go of Deans hand and ran to the edge. She watched the man dive down, dip into the river and bounce back up from the bungee cord. He was laughing hysterically and wiggling.

“Oh my god.” She exhaled in relief. Dean appeared behind her, resting a hand on her lower back.

“Amazing, ain’t it?”

“Incredible.”

“We’re next.” He grinned.

“Excuse me?” She looked at him with horror.

Dean pushed her hair behind her ears and held her face. “You weren’t scared to jump this weekend.”

“That wasn’t this high up.”

“I’ll be right there with you. Do it with me, Em. Let’s just do something fucking crazy.”

The breeze off the river was cool. It was September, but the heat of the Summer lingered well into October. Emerson stepped into her hip harness and allowed herself to be strapped in. Her ankles were pressed together and strapped in place. She wrapped her arms around Dean after he snapped their hips together. They stood on the ledge outside of the bridge, up against the railing. His strong arms held them in place.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” She said, looking up at him.

He smiled brightly, his eyes lighting up. “You’re telling me.”

Somehow anything felt possible in that moment. Emerson half expected him to sprout wings and fly away. The breeze tickled her cheek, and she gripped his shirt in her fingers. Their eyes locked, and she thought that she would kiss him. She thought that maybe she finally would give in. She raised her heels, hearing their hip gear jangle between them as she slowly closed the space between them.

He was crazy. He was wild and unpredictable. He wasn’t like Sam. Things with him were complicated and mixed up, but when she was so close to him, things just made sense. She wasn’t the girl who had to take care of her mom. She didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of an impossible disease and a sister who needed a parent more than ever. She didn’t have to be the angry, guarded girl whose father walked out and took away her trust. She was just a girl. She was completely herself.

Their lips were a breath apart when Dean let go of the railing. They fell backwards, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. It was a fast fall, despite the height, she screamed, and he laughed. Their lips brushed from the impact of the fall. It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t anything, really. It was a reaction, chained onto another action.

Their heads dipped below the water and they came out laughing and swinging by their ankles. “That was incredible!” She shouter, squeezing him tightly. “That was amazing, god I could just…”

“Just what?” He asked, looking into her eyes. He was still grinning widely and panting from the breath that was ripped from his chest.

“I…”

Dean reached down and uncoupled their ankles, causing them to fall into the river. She came up, breaking the water, and she spit some at him. “Hey, ass!”

He smiled at her warmly. “Come on. I heard there are leaches in this river.” He said, swimming toward the shore.

“What?” She squealed, swimming after him.

“Just kidding.” He laughed as he settled onto the bank of the river.

“You’re such an ass.” She complained, settling down next to him.

“So I’ve heard.” He grinned, laying on his back and staring at the sky.

Emerson followed his lead and laid on her back. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For bringing me. I wouldn’t have done that in a million years.”

“You gotta keep doin that, Em.”

“Jumping off bridges?” She laughed.

“Taking risks. I don’t want you to live in  shell.” He reached forward and poked your side. “You look alive.”

“What do I normally look like?” She asked him, propping herself up on her elbows. “A zombie?”

“Kinda.” He laughed.

“You’re just asking to get your nose broken again, Winchester.” She eyed him.

“No.” He said, rolling onto his side. “Just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” She assured him. “In this moment… I am happy.”

Dean rolled back over and looked at the sky. He rested on his arm like a pillow, watching the clouds.

Emerson watched him. There was a peace in him that she hadn’t seen before, and she suddenly wished it could always be like that. She missed him so deeply in that moment. She mourned for the moment in time that she possessed. She mourned it before she even let it pass. Her heart ached, because she knew that they would never be able to replicate that day that they spent by the river. Her heart ached, because she knew in that moment that she would never love another person like she loved Dean Winchester.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains some smut there near the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Never forget how strong and brave you are, and how many times you have already saved yourself.” - Mark Anthony

**-5 Years Before-**

 

Emerson woke up with a start. The sun was rising over the horizon, and she was in Dean Winchester’s arms. She squinted, taking in her surroundings. They’d fallen asleep by the fire, with his fingers twisting in her hair. She never made it home the night before. She was going to be in so much trouble. “Dean,” she hissed. “Wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered, still looking unbelievably heavy. “Em?”

“Yeah, hi. Get up,” she said, pushing his arms away from her body.

“You sure know how to wake a guy,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Dean,” Emerson said again, more insistent this time. She stood up frantically. “I never made it home.” She reached in her pants, pulling out her phone. Why didn’t her mom call? Or Pheli? “Fuck!” She said, as she stared at her waterlogged cell phone. She never took it out of her pocket when they jumped. “I’m so dead.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, getting to his feet. “I’ll get you there.”

“You shouldn’t have brought me here at all! I didn’t want to come!”

She wanted to believe him, but her head was spinning. She didn’t stay out all night with guys. She didn’t skip school.

Then she thought, she _never_ did anything wrong. Apart from the occasional trip to the principal for coming off snotty, she was never in trouble. There was no way that her mom would be able to flip out about one time. It was an accident, after all.

They got in the car and she pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Em?”

“What, Dean?” She didn’t mean to snap, she really didn’t. Things just weren’t supposed to be this way.

She felt an ache in her chest that she’d spent years trying to avoid. She didn’t want it. The way he was looking at her wasn’t what she asked for. It just happened. Some things just can’t be fought. Some things are just the way they are. She and Dean spent so much time not saying what they meant. They danced around and avoided. She did everything that she could do, but she loved him anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he said, weakly, turning his eyes back to the road.

She slumped in her seat and watched the world out the window. It was easier to blame him. The back of her throat burned, because she knew that it was the beginning of the end. _“I’m runnin’ out of time, okay?”_ They were out of time. There was no more available. It was over. Maybe it was over long before it ever started.

Dean pulled up in front of their houses, and Emerson threw open the door. She ran to her porch, leaping up the stairs. She didn’t look back to see if he was watching her. She didn’t have to. She knew he was watching. The front door was unlocked, and she pushed in slowly.

“No. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours, but it almost has! Don’t start that shit with me. My daughter is _missing_!”

“Mom?” Emerson squeaked as she stepped into the living room. Pheli was curled on the couch under a blanket, surrounded by balled up tissues, and Jana held onto the back of the couch to stabilize herself, so she could pace anxiously.

“Christ,” Jana sighed, putting her hand over her face. “She just got home. Yes. Thank you for your time.”

Ophelia jumped up, knocking a lap full of tissues onto the floor. She flung her arms around Emerson’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Oh my god! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, hugging Pheli back. “I didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

“Well, you did a terrible job!” Their mother snapped, staring daggers at her daughter. “Where were you, Emerson?”

The girls unfolded from their embrace, and Emerson tugged at her hair. “I was…”

“I got a call from the school. You never made it in. You didn’t answer your cell phone.” Emerson hadn’t ever seen her mother so angry. She could’ve sworn that Jana had steam coming out of her ears. “What do you have to say for yourself young lady?”

Emerson’s fingers twitched at her side. Her jaw tightened. She felt cornered. “I was with Dean.”

“Dean Winchester?” Pheli whispered, her mouth hanging open.

“Doing what?”

“We went for a swim,” Emerson said, shifting her weight. “My phone got wet.”

“You had all Summer to swim, Emerson. This isn’t like you.”

“You’re right. It isn’t,” she snapped. “It isn’t like me. I never do this kind of thing, so can’t you just cut me a break?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mom, come on! It was one day…”

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but I frankly don’t appreciate it. Go to your room and get ready for school. When you come home tonight, go straight to your room. You need to reassess your priorities if you ever want to make something of yourself. Go.”

“But he’s leaving to…”

“I don’t care! You’re not going to see him. If you can’t be trusted to act like an adult, then I won’t treat you like one. Room. _Now,_ ” Jana shouted, her shaking finger pointing to the stairs.

It was over alright.

 

**-27 Days After-**

 

“Dean, can we talk?” Castiel asked, jogging up next to Dean. He was working on his knee, testing his limits.

“Sure, man. Mind keeping pace?”

“Actually,” he said, slowing down to a stop. “We should probably go somewhere private.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way.” They made their way back toward the perimeter. Castiel walked with his hands in his jeans. He looked pensive, with his eyebrows coming together. “Alright, man, you’re killin’ me. What’s up?”

Castiel turned to look at his old friend, and Dean would recognize that look anywhere. It was bad news. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump growing rapidly in his throat. “It’s Ophelia.”

“What is it?”

Cas shook his head with a sigh. “When she came back without Gordon she told a story about how they were overrun. He didn’t make it.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, there was only one shot reported. Her guns were only missing a single bullet. She came back with his pack. Ash didn’t report any Rogue’s in the vicinity. Even if there were, Gordon isn’t the kind to get taken down easily, and he definitely would’ve used more shots.”

“What about his gun? Was that ever retrieved?”

“No,” Castiel said slowly. “But there was only one shot heard. You were there, Dean. Doesn’t it seem suspicious?”

Dean’s tongue darted out of his mouth and ran along his bottom lip. It was weird. He knew it was the moment he saw Ophelia’s face. Something more was going on. “Nah, man. I believe her. What are you trying to say?”

“It isn’t what I’m saying or what I think… it’s the rest of the base. They don’t believe her. They want a trial.”

Dean’s eyebrows came together, his heart hammering under his sternum. “A trial for _what_?”

“Some people think that she… that she killed him.”

He didn’t mean to laugh, but it was just so fucking ridiculous. His laughter bubbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Are you fucking kidding me? _Ophelia Maklen_? I’m sorry, Cas, but no. No way.”

“It doesn’t look good, Dean.”

“You’re way too serious, man. She didn’t. She _couldn’t_. She isn’t capable.”

“You’d be surprised what people are capable of now. Things are different, man. Remember all those kinds in Afghanistan with bombs strapped to their chest? This is a war zone, too.”

“People made those kids do that, Cas. If Phel did something it was something she had to do,” Dean said, flexing his fingers.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Cas said with a nod. “But she will need to prove that. We are a true democracy, Dean. My hands are tied.”

Deans jaw was tight. “When?”

“Three days, before dark. Everyone will make their case, and then the base votes.”

“Votes?”

“To decide if she’s guilty or innocent. Unless she confesses, of course.”

“And what? If she’s guilty then she goes to jail? Like you said, this is a war zone. You can’t keep a girl locked up. Especially not one like Ophelia. She’s already struggling just being without her conditioner,” Dean said, trying to make light of things, but his smile seemed forced and his laugh was too dry.  

“Not jail. Just maybe… banishment, but I don’t know for sure. We haven’t dealt with this kind of treason before. It may be less than that or worse…”

“Banishment?” His mouth hung open. “You can’t do that! This was our plan, Cas. Me, you, and the guys.”

“You haven’t been here. Like you said, you’re a civilian. What happened to you back there was fucked up. We all know that, but the past doesn’t mean anything now. As much as I wish it did. In war it’s all about the now. You know that.”

“I get it,” he said through gritted teeth. “I get it, but it’s fucking bullshit. I’ll tell her.”

Dean didn’t let Cas talk again, he turned on his heels and jogged away. His head was water logged. _This is bad, fuck this is so bad._ He was never close to Ophelia. It was just Emerson. His few select moments one on one with her felt like she was more of an annoying little sister than anything, but she was always supportive of him and Emerson. She was a good person. There was nothing in his mind that thought she did it, but yet. His memory flickered back to the back of the Jeep. She was acting really fucking weird. Something wasn’t right, but it couldn’t be what they expected. Why would she kill him? It didn’t make sense.

He slowed down his jog as he approached the Maklen’s tent. He poked his head in cautiously, a hand over his eyes. “Knock knock.”

He heard and audible groan and couldn’t help but smile. “Em. I’d recognize that annoyed tone anywhere. Everybody decent?”

“Yes, Dean. What do you want?”

Dean opened his fingers, catching a glimpse of her. She was lounging on her pallet, her pen tapping a notebook on her lap. Her hair was falling into her eyes. It was muted and dark in there, and he didn’t know how she could possibly see well enough to write. He was dying to know what she’d been scribbling.

“Out with it Winchester,” she prompted again.

“Aw, be nice to him, Em,” Ophelia said, waving her sister off.

“I’m actually looking for you,” he said tightly to Pheli.

“Finally moved on to the more superior twin? It was bound to happen,” Pheli said dramatically.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. I’m mad for you.”

“Knew it.” She grinned.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Emerson asked curtly.

“Actually…” Dean said, shifting his weight. “Phel, can we talk?”

Pheli raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. I’ll be back, Em.”

“Whatever,” Emerson grumbled, rolling onto her side away from them.

Dean winced at the sight of her turning away from him. He hated that. He hated every time she looked away, but he needed to get over it. She drew the line, now he just had to stay behind it. It was the least he could do.

Ophelia and Dean exited the tent. She folded her arms across his chest and glanced at the tall man. “What’s going on? You look suspiciously serious.”

“What happened at the run yesterday, Phel?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened with Gordon?”

“I told you.”

“No.” Dean frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You actually didn’t.”

“Why does it matter?”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed her biceps, holding her in place. “Listen to me. It matters, Ophelia.”

“Why, Dean?” Her eyes locked with his, her pupils expanding.

“They think you killed him.”

He could see her throat move as she swallowed, her lips opening slightly like she wanted to speak, but she didn’t.

“Fuck.” His hands fell back to his side. He rubbed his jaw. “You didn’t, Phel. Say you fucking didn’t.”

“I can’t say that, and I think you know that.” Her eyes flickered away from him.

“Shit. Goddamnit. Why? Did he attack you?”

“It doesn’t matter why. It’s over.” Her arms folded across her chest, and she turned away completely.

“It matters.” He touched her shoulder. “It matters, because they want a trial. They think you killed him, and they want a fucking trial.”

Pheli turned back to look at him. “A trial? What do you mean?”

“I mean, we have three days before you have to stand up and make your case. So whatever reason you got, I hope that it’s a damn good one. Otherwise we are fucked.”

 

****

 

“Stop!” Emerson called after her sister. They were running, and Pheli was pushing harder than she ever had before. “Christ!” She grabbed her sisters shirt, and both girls collapsed into the grass side by side. “We should tell them what happened. What happened to me.”

“No,” Pheli said, shaking her head. “No way.”

Emerson propped herself up on her elbows. “They’ll understand.”

“I don’t give a shit what they think. I’m not making you relive that. This was my thing, I’ll deal with it.”

“That’s not how we work, Phel. It’s not just you. It’s us. It’s always been us. We are a team.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“What does that mean?” Emerson frowned, sitting up.

Ophelia followed her sister and sat up. “You’ve been taking care of me your whole life. Don’t talk about this in front of Pheli. Don’t do that in front of Pheli. Don’t upset Pheli. I’m not a flower, you know? I’m not going to break. I don’t have petals.”

“I know that… I…”

“Let me take care of you.” Phel took Emerson’s hands in hers. “No one is going to make you talk about that. No one. I will handle this. Let me take care of you.”

Emerson squeezed her sisters hands. “We will take care of each other. Which means, I’m not going to let them send you away, or worse.”

Pheli wrapped her arms around her sister and squeezed her tightly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It has to be.” Em murmured against Phel’s neck.

 

**-28 Days After-**

Every moment since the bomb went off felt indescribably long. Every second ticked away. Every second was a thousand. At least it felt that way for Emerson. It did until she found out about the trial. Then it went so fast. The clock was spinning. She was afraid it may fly away.

Dean was up on the wall. She stuck her foot in the crack and hoisted herself up to sit next to him. “Dean?”

“Hey.” He didn’t look at her. He just stared off at the distance.

“It looks bad.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah it does.”

“They won’t… they won’t try to kill her, will they?”

He turned to look at her. “Don’t think so. Cas said it’d most likely be banishment.”

“They can’t do that…”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “I hope they won’t, but I don’t know what the fuck they’re going to do.” His eyes flickered to hers. “Why’d she do it? Did she tell you?”

“She said she had to,” Emerson said through gritted teeth.

“The story’s gotta be better than that. They’re not going to take that. They don’t know her, but they knew _him_.”

“They know you,” she said quietly. “Talk to them.”

“Em…” He sighed. “I don’t think they care about me. Cas does, sure. Benny… but it isn’t just them. It’s this whole damn place.”

Emerson wiped a tear off her cheek. She hurt to her core. “Maybe they’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “But no matter what we will figure it out. We gotta stay here, Em. The world is a fuckin mess out there. It’s not safe.”

She didn’t want to lean on him. She didn’t want to have to, but old habits die hard. “I know that.”

“I was thinkin’ about that last day.”

“Last day?”

“Yeah. Before I left.”

“Dean… I don’t… I don’t want to talk about that night.” She pressed her lips together. Some things were better left in the past.

“Not that night. The morning, when I dropped you off.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “What about it?”

“It sucked. Watching you go into that house. I fucked up. Shouldn’t have kept you out all night… but that was one of the best nights of my life. I just never really told you that. I didn’t want it to end.”

“I liked it, too,” Emerson admitted. “But everything ends eventually, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

**-29 Days After-**

“What’s going to happen?” Sam asked, looking down at Pheli. He scored some alone time in the tent. They were desperate for just a little time. Time to breathe each other in. Time to just be the two of them. Since everything started, that was the one thing that Sam wanted more than anything.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

He pushed a hair out of her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. “It’s me and you, and even if Emerson and Dean aren’t getting along they’ll back us. All we need is each other.”

“Everyone keeps talking like I’m going to die,” Pheli said through gritted teeth. “Did anyone consider that I did a good thing? That Gordon was a monster?”

“What happened, Phel? You’re not violent. You don’t…”

“Don’t what? Kill people? You’re right. I _don’t_.” Ophelia sat up and rested her chin on her knees. “This is all so fucked up, Sam.”

“Talk to me,” he whispered, sitting up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her. “Whatever happened we can…”

“Let’s be honest here, okay?” She turned to look at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. “They’ve already decided what happened. Nothing I say is going to matter. You guys know that, right? They decided tomorrows outcome before they ever called for the trial.”

“Do you want to go through with it? We can just leave. We don’t need this place.”

Pheli touched Sam’s cheek, running her palm along his growing scruff. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Not by a long shot. “You are one of a kind, Sam Winchester.”

“So are you. Let’s just go. All we’ve ever needed was each other. The four of us…”

“Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment,” she said with a sigh. “But you’re wrong. You saw what the world was like out there. It’s kill or be killed… and obviously I made the wrong choice. I always hoped by the time I was graduating college I’d be a little smarter.” She laughed dryly.

“You are smart.”

“You’re my boyfriend, you have to think that.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have to. I know you, Ophelia. You’re a lot of things, but stupid? You’re not stupid, and you’re not a monster. I just wish you’d let people see the real you.”

“I don’t know who the real me is, not here. Not in this version of the world.”

“Here,” Sam whispered, leaning in to kiss her. “Here you can be whoever you want to be. Here you’re in my arms, and I’ve got you. Just be you, Ophelia Maklen. I love all the versions, but the one that comes from here,” he said, pointing to her heart, “that one is my favorite.”

So Pheli kissed him. She kissed him, because he made her want to be a better person. She sat on her knees to reach up to his face and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently. She messed up. She shouldn’t have ever let Emerson go alone with Gordon. She shouldn’t have been alone with him, herself. Everything was fragile enough, but things were getting worse. Every second, every day, they were closer and closer to the end. They couldn’t leave the camp, but if they didn’t… how would they ever see if there was help out there? If there was any to find.

“Phel,” Sam murmured against her lips. “Be here with me. You’re somewhere else.”

She didn’t know how, but when Sam looked at her like she was the only other person on the planet, how could she not try? So she lifted her arms, and he tossed her shirt away, his following after.

After their father left, both Maklen sister’s lost a little faith in love. Emerson chose the place of angry solitude. She was all logic. She was made of steel, cold and solid. That left Pheli in control of hope. It left her picking up where Emerson left off. So, when Jana couldn’t stop shaking long enough to pour cinnamon in her cookies, it was Pheli that hovered over the mixing bowl. It was Pheli who tried on dresses, spinning around, laughing even when everything seemed so fucking hopeless. Because she knew that without it, they’d have nothing.

Pheli wrapped her legs around his waist, deepening their kiss. Sometimes life felt like too much, but even when the world fell apart there was Sam. There’d always be Sam with his bright smile and floppy hair. She pulled away and pressed her forehead to his. She ran her thumb across his bottom lip, and he kissed it instinctively. When she was with him she felt safe. She was alive.

She reached behind her and unlatched her bra, tossing it away. Sam smiled at her widely. He leaned down to press gentle, light kisses along the fullness of her breasts. She closed her eyes and let her body relax under his touch. His strong hand held her back up, letting her lean into his touch, and she folded. Her head rolled back, her spine in an arch against his hand. He ran his free fingers between her breasts and down her stomach, her muscles flexing under his light touch, goosebumps rising on her skin.

His fingers caught the button of her jeans and unsnapped them easily, the zipper making a soft grinding noise as he slowly worked it down. She reached up behind her and let her hair down, shaking it out.

Sam let her down, her back flat on his mat, and he ran his fingers along the insides of her thighs, silently asking her to release his waist. She complied, letting her legs loose.

Ophelia and Sam didn’t need words. They communicated through touches and looks most of the time. She always felt like he knew her soul. Everyone assumed that they never fought, that they were perfect, but there was no such thing. All they had were moments, strung together like popcorn around a Christmas tree, they were fragile, but they handled their relationship with care. They wrapped themselves in bubble wrap and held each other close, because something easily broken is something to be cherished. It’s something one of a kind.

Sam worked her jeans off, tossing them to the side, and went right to his own. Ophelia propped herself up and watched him awkwardly hop out of his jeans under the low ceiling of the tent. She let a laugh bubble up inside of her.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” she giggled. “Can’t help it. You’re too fucking cute, giant.”

Sam fell back to his knees, now only wearing his boxers. He crawled to her, back between her thighs. “I’ll give you something to laugh about,” he said, his voice low.

“Mmm, promise?”

His hand snaked around to the back of her neck, and he captured her lips in his. He kissed her insistently, pressure against her mouth. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. Pheli groaned against the kiss and arched her back to press their bare chests together. It felt good to be close to him, to feel his pulse under her touch. His skin was warm and smooth against hers.

She slowed the kiss down, drinking him in. She ran her leg against his before wrapping her legs back around his waist, and her arms around him. Her fingers danced along his skin. She tasted him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He was warm, soft, open. He tasted a little like the the morning, burnt coffee, and sleep.

Her nails dug into his back back, with a groan, as he pressed against her, two flimsy pieces of fabric between them. Sam grunted from her nails against his skin, but held her closer, grinding against her. She reached down and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxers, and pushed down at them desperately trying to close the space between them. He lifted his hips, helping them down, and with a wiggle and a kick they were off.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice soft and wrecked.

“You’ve got me,” he assured her, his words against her mouth, her ragged breath on his lips. His hand slid up between her legs, his fingers pushing her panties to the side. He slid a finger inside of her in one quick, slick motion. He gave his hand a few quick pumps, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

“All of you.” Her eyes locked with his.

He slid a second finger in, his eyes never leaving hers. He always wanted to watch her come undone, he liked to see her need him, but the look on his face in that moment was different. He wasn’t overcome with lust, and his forehead had a distinct wrinkle. He was worried. “I don’t… I don’t have a condom, Phel. Last time was the last one…”

She propped herself up on her elbow, and held his face in her hand. He leaned into it, and she smiled. “I don’t give a damn,” she said, breathless from the continued motion that swirled and pumped inside of her.

Sam’s eyes scanned down her body and back up to her eyes. He didn’t need any more permission than that. After all their time together he knew when she was sure, and they loved each other. Nothing else in the world mattered, not really. His fingers slid out of her, causing Pheli’s eyes to flutter shut. His fingers grazed across the lace of her panties, making sure they were out of the way as he lined up and pressed into her.

They sighed together in relief as the pressure that was building inside of them geared up to be released. They moved together, Sam creating the rhythm, and Pheli following his lead. She pressed into him, meeting his strides. His hair fell into his eyes, his gaze focused, and his jaw right. She reached up and pulled their faces together in a desperate, insistent kiss.

She pressed her hand back to the ground before shifting her weight, flipping Sam on his back. His eyes fluttered in surprise, but he didn’t pull back from the kiss. He licked into her mouth, his fingers running through her hair, knotting into her waves. Pheli moved with him, grinding against him, running her hands along his chest, through his hair, twisting her fingers into his as she held his hands above his head. Even though he was stronger, he let her pin him.

Sam Winchester had a magical way about him that quieted the screaming inside of Pheli’s skull. The sounds and bees that bounced around her head in a way that never stopped, in an unforgivable way, but there was something about him that silenced things inside of her. He muffled the madness. He was constant and solid. When she was with him she really believed that everything would be okay.

They pulled apart at the right time, Sam grabbing his own boxers to clean up, agreeing to deal with those consequences later. He layed back and pulled her to him, wrapping his sheet around them. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the slowing sound of his pounding heart.

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life,” she murmured, before kissing the bare skin on his chest.

“That was poetic. Shakespeare?”

“Victor Hugo. Les Miserables,” she said between kisses.

Sam looked down at her and tilted her chin up, so she would look at him. “This isn’t the French Revolution, Phel.”

“I know,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “This is so much worse.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I was on vacation last week, so I got a little behind my normal writing rhythm. This chapter was going to include the trial, but it was getting on the longer side, and I didn’t want to make y’all wait any longer. So, sorry if this feels a little anticlimactic! I’ll hopefully have the next chapter for y’all soon! Yell in the comments, or HMU on tumblr @themoonandotherslikeit
> 
> Hearing from y’all gives me life <3 Thanks for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of rape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Perhaps - I want the old days back again and they'll never come back, and I am haunted by the memory of them and of the world falling about my ears.” - Margaret Mitchell

**-30 Days After-**

 

The trial was held in the center of the base. Everyone pulled out chairs and logs onto the lawn and settled in. Some of the men brought out an elevated platform that was used in one of the shops to be a sudo stage. Ophelia Maklen sat on a chair, center stage, with Castiel standing next to her. His hands were clasped together, his forehead in a distinct wrinkle.

The air was cool, it felt the the air that blew off the ocean back in their home town. Pheli always felt like the ocean had its own wind source, sending cool bursts of salted air. This was different, though. Something felt unsettling. The air was cool, and it smelled like sulfur. It smelled a little chemical. It burned Pheli’s nose, causing her eyes to well up. Her eyes were red and her nose was puffy like she’d been crying, but she hadn’t. It was the air. A storm was brewing in the distance. She could see it far off. Black, threatening clouds swirled past Dallas’ downtown. She could’ve sworn there was a red strike of lightening between the blackness, but she couldn’t be sure.

A gust of wind tickled the hair on her cheek, sending a flower petal out of her hair, and slowly floating to the ground. Emerson insisted that they put flowers in Pheli’s hair. It made her look innocent. It made her look sweet. It covered the blood on her hands and the guilt in her eyes. It was a facade. Ophelia Maklen was made of cinnamon and sugar, and she knew that it was all a lie. Sugar melts in the rain. She melted away a long time ago.

“We are here to talk about what happened. We want the truth.” Castiel’s blue eyes flickered to Ophelia. She didn’t see. She was looking straight out, past the crowd, past the wall, right to the sky, and into the storm. “Tell us what happened, Ophelia.”

“You know what happened,” she said, her voice ghostly. It was caught in the sulfur breeze.

“Please reiterate it for us. We want to be clear.”

There was nothing clear about it. Nothing clear about the weight of the gun in her hands, the way his voice sounded when he begged, when he cried. There was nothing clear about the blood on her sisters bed pallet, or the way she was walking around like a shell who she was supposed to be. There was nothing clear. Not about what she did, or what she had to do.

“Phel?” She heard Emerson say from the front row. It caused her attention to shift from the sky to the audience, catapulting her right back into the trial.

“I… I’m sorry,” Pheli swallowed.

“Sorry for what?” Castiel pressed, his knuckles white from squeezing his own hands so hard.

He wanted things to be different. They all did.

“For not answering at first.” _For all of it_. “We were shopping, gathering supplies.” She swallowed, her mouth was so dry. It felt like her gums were cracking. “We went up to the roof, Gordon… he lead me up to the roof of the building we were in.”

“Why?”

Pheli’s eyes locked with Emerson’s. “I don’t know. He wasn’t exactly communicating with me.”

Castiel nodded knowingly. That evidently wasn’t out of the ordinary for Gordon. “Then what happened?”

Her stomach twisted. She didn’t know what to say. She lied before, but this was different. There were eyes on her. She opened her mouth, desperate for the truth to leave her lips, but Castiel interrupted her. She paused for too long.

“When we talked before. you said he got over run. Were there Rogues on the roof?”

“There was…”

Ash stood up from the second row. “She wanted to be his partner. Why?”

“Ash, sit down, please,” Castiel said with a hand out.

“No,” Ash frowned. “Sorry C-man, but he was our best fighter. Ruthless motherfucker. Never ran away from a fight. We need answers.”

“I’m sure it was just a coincidence that she asked to be his partner,” Castiel said, glancing at Ophelia. She was staring at her hands in her lap. “Would you like to explain further?”

“She wanted to be partners with him, because I was annoying her. She didn’t want to go with me so she went with him instead,” Dean said, standing up in the front row. “So can we just stop this fucking witch hunt already?”

The sky growled angrily in the distance, a thunder clap that Pheli seemed to be the only one to hear as the crowd stared her down. She half expected them to light torches and scream _burn burn burn!_ She clasped her hands together tighter, almost as if in prayer. The world was tipping on its axis, and she worried she’d fall off the edge into space.

“Is it true that there was only shot reported?” Someone asked from the crowd.

Pheli’s eyes met Sam’s in the crowd. His eyelashes fluttered like we was trying to hold back, but even from that distance she could see the softness in his eyes. _You and me_.

“Just admit it! Admit what you did!” Someone else demanded.

“You don’t trust me,” Pheli said, tightly. “I understand that. I’m _new_ here. You don’t know me.” Her knuckles were white from her tight grip on her fingers. Another flower petal fell from her hair like rain.

“That’s right! Why should we?”

The faces in the crowd were blurring together. It felt like she was spinning too fast. Everyone was just a mass smear of skin and hair. She felt dizzy and sick to her stomach. “This world is fucked up. I’ve seen more things that terrified me in the last month that I have in my life.” Her eyes flickered up to finally look at the faces of her accusers. “I don’t know what answer will make you feel better. I don’t know what will help you sleep at night, and hell, if you have any advice on that front I’d love to hear it.”

“You know what will help? Tell us the truth,” Benny said, removing his cap to wipe sweat off his head.

Pheli wasn’t under the impression that they wanted the truth. No one wants to find out that their friend is a monster. They wouldn’t let her talk. Every time she opened her mouth another person’s words spilled out over her. She was drowning in them. This time, though, it was a voice just like hers.

“You want the truth?” Emerson asked, her voice trembling. “Let me tell you exactly what happened.”

 

**-6 Years Before-**

 

Emerson laid in bed, her arms wrapped around her pillow. The moon was fat and high in the sky, streaming in through the bedroom window, the silver light speckled from the tree that hung near their house. She let out a heavy sigh when she heard her phone chime next to her bed. _Who the hell?_ She yawned and rubbed her eyes. She. Clicked the screen on and squinted into the harsh white light.

_You up?_

It was a text from Dean. It was two o’clock in the morning, and Dean Winchester was texting her. The sheer abnormality of it had Emerson worried. She glanced at Pheli to make sure she was still asleep, before sliding under her blankets to text him back.

_Am now. What do you want?_

Ding! _You said if it got too bad I could stay over??_

 _I’ll meet you out back._ She typed back, quickly tossing her legs out of bed. She quietly crept across the bedroom. It’d been almost a month since she and Dean had discussed his fathers abusive habits. _“If he’s ever coming after you, you can stay with me. If something happens to you I don’t think I could forgive myself.”_

She hoped it was over, and that he was’t being hurt anymore, but she had a feeling that Dean hid a lot more pain than he was willing to admit.

Emerson pushed out into the back yard, to find him sitting on the stairs. His back was facing her, but she saw him holding his side. He was slumped over, his spine showing through his black t-shirt. “Dean,” she whispered.

He turned to her, and her stomach was in her throat in an instant. His lip was busted open and bleeding. There was blood pooling inside of one of his eyes and the other was completely swollen shut. “Hey, Em.”

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, immediately falling to her knees next to him. “What happened, Dean?”

“Ran into a fist,” he joked lamely. His wide grin tugged at the cut on his mouth, making him wince. “Cute jammies.”

“Shut up.” Emerson put her hands up to his cheeks gently. “We should go to the hospital.”

“No way.” He shook his head. “I just… I just need a place to sleep, but I can probably go find a bench or something…”

“I said shut up.” Her voice broke a bit as she ignored the sting behind her eyes. “Come on. I need to get a look at you.”

“You hittin’ on me, Maklen?”

“No, seems like someone already did that.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch is right.” Emerson slid under his arm to help steady him. He was heavy on her shoulders, just reinforcing her concerns. He was leaning on her. He didn’t do that if he didn’t have to.

She snuck him in the back door and took him to the guest bathroom, away from the prying ears of her mother and sister. “Sit,” she instructed, lowering him down to sit on the toilet. “Follow my fingers.” Emerson moved her finger from one side to make sure his eyes could track her movements. They seemed to be okay, but she wasn’t a doctor, and staring into his red eye was making her reconsider her decision to not take him to the emergency room.

Dean’s good eye was focused on her as she turned to wet a wash cloth. “You don’t need to do that, Em, seriously. I can just crash on the couch and leave before Jana gets up…”

“Well, maybe you do have a concussion,” she snapped. “Since you aren’t listening to my instructions.”

He winced at her words, his eye flickering down to his lap. “I shouldn’t have texted, right? That invite was just you bein’ nice.”

Emerson sighed, wringing out her wash cloth. “I didn’t say that.” She turned to him. “Look at me.”

He followed her instructions and let his good eye rest on her face as she dabbed the blood off his face with her rag.

“I don’t think you need stitches, but I will need to clean it with alcohol and it’s going to hurt.”

“I’ve had worse,” he murmured, the rag against his lip.

“You know,” Em began. “You didn’t have to get the shit beat out of you to get my attention. You could’ve just said hi.”

“Aw, really? Shit, well… hi.”

She smiled a bit, looking down at the beaten boy in front of her. He was a boy then. There was something in his expression that held an innocence that she craved to see more of. “Hi.” She put the rag back into the sink. It was pink with blood, but he looked a little better now that he wasn’t covered in it. “Now take off your shirt.”

He raised an eyebrow accompanied with another wince. “Excuse me? Are you trying to take _advantage_ of me? I’m in a vulnerable state, Emerson. You’re my doctor. This is unethical.”

She stared at him with her arms folded across her chest. She pursed her lips and tapped her fingers on her elbow. “I saw you clutching your side. I need to look at it.”

“You’re sexualizing me,” he complained, dramatically. “I’m not just a piece of meat.”

Emerson let out an annoyed sigh before leaning in to poke him in the ribs. He immediately let out a yelp and doubled over. “Fuck,” he gasped.

“Take off your shirt, Dean.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He sucked in his breath and reached behind his head to pull his shirt up and over.

“Stand up,” she whispered. “I need a better look.”

It could’ve been make up. His skin was completely covered in bruises. The entirety of his ribs were purple and blue, with concentrated moments of blackness. “What did he do to you?” She asked again, her fingers barely brushing over the skin.

Dean snaked an arm around her, pressing his fingers to her lower back. “‘M okay, Em.”

“You aren’t.” She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions at bay. He was just the guy next door, after all. “He could’ve killed you.”

“Eh, can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“How can you make jokes?” She asked him desperately, her eyes meeting his. “This isn’t funny.”

“You’re right,” he said slowly. “It isn’t funny. It’s really not fucking funny, but I… I don’t like seeing you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m somethin’ that needs to be fixed.”

“That’s not how I’m looking at you.”

He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “It’s still beating. Still pumping blood. I’m not gonna let John Winchester take my life from me. No way. I’ve got too much I want to do.”

Emerson felt the beat of his heart underneath her fingers, and she closed her eyes. She tried to adjust her own heartbeat and breathing to match his. It was steady like a drum. When her eyes finally opened she caught him staring at her. “I can’t tell if you’re stupid or brave.”

“When it comes down to it, they’re almost the same.”

“Why didn’t you call Cassie tonight? She’s your girlfriend, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at that, along with a sharp exhale out of his nose. “No, uh, she’s not my girlfriend exactly. Plus,” he stumbled, “you’re closer.”

“Right,” Emerson said, moving her hand off his bare chest. She was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and how much his naked skin was making her head spin. “I’ll go grab an ice pack for you.”

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

“Em, no,” Ophelia said, standing up as her sister did.

Emerson stepped up on the platform and clasped her hands together. “She did it for me.”

Castiel frowned at the girls. “Did what?”

Ems eyes flickered down. It was all coming out. Everything that she tried so damn hard to keep in, but that was the theme as of late. She could only swallow so much and this wasn’t about her. It was about Ophelia.

“The first night we were here Gordon came and sat with me at the campfire. We were drinking and talking.” She could feel the back of her throat burn. She noticed every loose piece of skin around her nails. Her index fingernail was a little longer than the rest and a piece of dirt was settled underneath. “I was out of it, and he walked me back to my tent.”

She felt Pheli’s fingers twist into hers. Their hands locked together. “You don’t have to do this,” Pheli reminded her quietly.

The crowd stared at her. They were waiting. The air was silent apart from the jingle of the breeze through the gate. She could feel Deans eyes on her like he was the only other person in the courtyard. Like it was just the two of them. “He attacked me. Kissed me and I… I told him no, and he didn’t listen. I was too out of it to put up a fight and he…” She couldn’t say it. Her chest tightened and panic bubbled inside of her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could feel his hand pressing against her lips.

“I confronted him,” Pheli said, wrapping an arm around her sisters. “After I saw all the blood… I asked to be his partner on the run. He knew I was going to confront him about what happened so he took me to the roof and latched the door. He kept talking about how he…” She looked to Emerson and pressed her lips together.

“He was a monster,” Emerson said through her teeth. She glanced up through the wetness in her eyes, and she wiped them with the back of her hand. “He could’ve hurt Pheli like he hurt me. He was going to do it again. She was protecting me. Protecting all of us.” She could see the green of Deans eyes. There was wetness to them, she could tell from even that far away. Her heart broke at that, it was a small, hairline crack, but with the right applied pressure it would break, and with the way he was looking at her, she didn’t think it would take long to shatter completely.

“That’s enough,” Dean said standing up in front of the crowd. His body blocked the girls from the front. “Let’s stop this shit now.”

“She’s still a murderer,” Ash said quietly, but loud enough for the three to hear.

“She killed a rapist,” Emerson snapped. “Didn’t you hear that?” She stared at Ash, as she stepped down next to Dean. “He held me down, covered my mouth, and he raped me.” Ash’s eyes flickered away from hers.

“You don’t look surprised,” Dean said through clenched teeth. He looked to Castiel, who was also staring at his feet. “What the fuck is going on? Did you know about this? Did you know who he was? What he did?”

“We… there was another incident. Before,” Castiel explained quietly. “But we voted and he… his skills were too important to the base to remove him from the community.”

“It’s been a month since this all started,” Dean said through clenched teeth. “So in the last four weeks he assaulted someone and you let him stay.”

“Dean I…”

“No. That’s fucked up. This is so fucked up.”

Emerson looked out to Ash. “You’re going to call my sister a murderer. After you all let this happen.”

“How can we trust that she won’t go nuts and hurt someone else?” Someone asked from the back of the crowd.

“I didn’t go nuts you dumb…” Pheli shouted, and Emerson stopped her by putting her arm out.

“We’re done,” Sam said, standing up. “I’m not listening to this anymore. We are fucking done. Let’s go.”

“I agree. I’d rather face the Rogues than be around people like you,” Dean said tightly to Castiel. “We will be out tonight.”

 

**-6 Years Before-**

 

Dean watched her rush out of the bathroom, and he let out a heavy sigh. He was fucking up over and over again. He could still feel her fingers on his skin. It was like little prickles of electricity on his skin.

He heard her open the freezer, and he stood up. He walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

Emerson glowed in the light from the open freezer door, her silhouette illuminated. She was beautiful. Her bare shoulders glowed in the white light from the fridge, and her hair fell into her eyes as she gathered the ice into a plastic bag. She was shaking.

Dean walked to her and touched her arms to alert her that he was behind her, before sliding his arms around her in a hug. “Hey, I’ve got you.” Her fingers curled around his arms, the ice pack pressing against his skin.

“You don’t have to be in pain. This shouldn’t have happened to you,” she murmured, her voice sounded broken.

“It’s not even that bad,” he assured her, burying his face in her hair. It was hard to lie to her, but most of the time it was still easier than the truth.

“You can trust me, Dean. I don’t want him to hurt you, Sam, or your mom…”

“Em,” Dean sighed, turning her to face him. He held her face in his hands. “I know I can trust you. That’s why I’m here. It’s not… not because you’re close, okay? It’s because you’re _you_.”

She looked down and gently pressed the ice to his ribs. He sucked in his breath as the cold pack touched his skin. “You can stay here as long as you need to, Dean.”

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

Sam put an arm around Ophelia and the four of them turned to leave. The two girls folded into each other as the sky darkened from the oncoming storm. The crowd was restless and everyone was standing and talking at the sight of the group leaving, and in the wake of the truth about Gordon.

Cas jogged after them and grabbed ahold of Deans shoulder, “Dean wait.”

“What, Cas?” Dean snapped. “What else do you fucking have to say?”

“It’s wrong what happened. Let me try to fix it. Let me talk to them.”

“Honestly? You can’t fix this.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. His head pounded and ached. His stomach was in knots. All he wanted to do was see Emerson. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted… he wanted everything to be different. “It’s beyond repair.”

The sky clapped above their heads, lightening brightening the darkened sky. “Let me talk to everyone. At least stay the night. Wait out the storm. I don’t want to lose you again, Dean.”

Dean stepped into him, grabbing Castiel’s shirt in his hands. “He raped her! He hurt her, and this whole fucking time I thought she was mad about Lisa. She’s been suffering alone. You let that happen. I’m not fucking sticking around, but nice try.”

He pushed away from Castiel and jogged toward the tents. His knee stung and burned, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. Nothing about him did. Emerson was the only one that mattered. She was the only one that ever did.

He found Sam and Pheli at the Winchester’s tent. Sam’s arms were wrapped around her, his fingers were twisted in her hair. “Hey,” Dean said out of breath. “Where is she?”

Pheli turned her face out of Sam’s chest and looked at Dean through red tinted eyes. “At the tent.”

“Phel,” Dean exhaled, wiping a tear off her cheek. “You did good, kid.”

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Dean told them.

“It’s going to storm, what are we going to do, Dean?” Sam asked his brother softly, over Pheli’s head.

“Just gather up our stuff. We will reconvene.”

“Okay,” Sam said with a swift nod.

The Maklen’s tent flaps were shut. “Em,” Dean said softly, his fingers on the flaps.

“Go away,” Emerson said, her voice shaking.

“I will if it’s what you want, but Em I didn’t… I didn’t know.” His forehead brushed against the flap on the tent as his chest pulled toward her like a magnet.

“I know you didn’t.”

He could see her silhouette shifting inside of the tent. “You can trust me, Em. You could’ve trusted me with this.”

“It wasn’t about you, Dean. Not everything is about you!”

“That’s not…” He sighed. “Please, just let me in. Em, please.”

There was shuffling and then the tent flap opened, and there she was. She saw him, and she started to cry all over again. “Fucking hell.”

“Hey,” Dean murmured, letting her fall into his arms. “I’ve got you.”  

“I didn’t… I didn’t want you to know.”

Dean could feel her tears soaking through his shirt, and he held her closer. “Let’s go inside, okay? Let’s go inside and talk.”

Emerson nodded quickly into his chest, and he released her so she could go sit back down. He followed her lead, sitting across from her to give her space. She pushed her knees to her chest and wiped her eyes. It took a few shaky breaths before she began talking again. “It’s not about trust.”

“What isn’t?”

“Me not telling you about Gordon. It has nothing to do with me trusting you.”

“Then what was it, Em?”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “The way that I felt after it happened… the way that I feel now… I’m not okay, Dean. He hurt me in a way that I don’t think I can get over.” She leaned over and grabbed a notebook from under her pillow and flipped through it before handing it to him. “There’s a lot of shit that I can’t say to you. No matter how much you deserve to hear it.”

“What is this?” Dean looked down at the page, at her handwriting. His name.

_Dear Dean,_

_I want to go find you. I want to walk over to your tent, pull you out of bed, and shake you until you understand. I need you to understand. More than anything I need things to be different. I need all of this to not have happened. I’ve coped. Haven’t you watched me cope all this time? I got over you. (Am I seriously trying to lie? Way to go, Em) I was a kid when this all started. When I watched you walk away. But I coped. I’m still coping._

_But still I want to go find you. I want to let you remind me what it feels like to be alive. He fucking hurt me, Dean. In a way a person should never have to be hurt. I thought the way that you hurt me was the worst thing I’d ever feel, but losing you… that hurt in my heart. This is different. He reached inside of me and cracked me open. He stole pieces that will not allow me to be whole ever again._

Dean shut the cover from the notebook before the letter was finished. “I’m sorry that I left you.”

“We are a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Em.”

“Thought we were done lying, Dean.”

He smiled a little before handing her the notebook back. “We were never going to stop lying.” He rubbed his face with a sigh. “I should’ve told Lisa who you were. I was thrown. I just…”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I want to,” he said, his fingers reaching out to her before he rested his hands on his knees instead. “In that letter you said you wished things were different. So do I. I wish I made a lot of choices differently. Now I just have to make sure I don’t keep fucking up.”

“You’re not a fuck up.” She wiped her eyes again, sucking in her breath through her nose. “And things can’t be different. It doesn’t matter what we want.”

Thunder clapped again overhead and it felt like the ground trembled in response. Raindrops fell on the canopy of the tent, and it sounded like nervous fingers tapping.

“It matters to me what you want. What is it that you want, Em? Because if you don’t want… this… us, then I’ll drop it. If that’s really what you want, but it better not be because of Lisa or some bullshit reason. It better be because you really don’t want to be with me. But if you do… if you want this then I’m here. I’m all in. I’ll wait. I’ll help you heal. Whatever you need.” Dean winced and ran his fingers through his hair. “I know it ain’t about me. This is about you. I just want you to know that you don’t have to take the pain alone.”

 

**-6 Years Before-**

 

Emerson laid a blanket out on top of the guest bed. “All yours,” she murmured, hugging a pillow against her chest. “Can I get you anything else?”

Dean lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. She watched as he held his side. He sat with a wince. “Nah, it’s great. Thanks.”

She walked to him and laid the pillow down. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.” She clicked off the bedside lamp and turned to leave, but Dean grabbed her hand loosely.

“Emerson.”

“Dean?” She turned to him, her hair falling around her.

“Stay.”

“What?”

He tugged on her hand a bit, urging her downward. “Just… stay.”

“Why?” She could barely see him in the darkness, but her eyes were slowly adjusting.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

She ran her thumb over his bruised cheekbone. “Okay.” She nodded to him. “Make room.”

Dean smiled and scooted back before laying down on his good side. Emerson lowered herself next to him, facing him. She rested her hand with the ice pack on his bruise and looked at him in the darkness.

“Why don’t you tell someone?” She asked him.

“It won’t make a difference.”

“Dean.” Emerson shook her head. She could see him looking at her now. Really looking. Like maybe she had some answer that he was needing hidden beneath her skin. “That can’t be true. If Sam… if your mom knew that he was doing this to you. I mean, I want to kill him and you aren’t even my kid.”

He let out a slow and desperate sigh. “Mom left him once. I don’t know if you knew that.”

“I didn’t.”

“He… he buried my alive in the back yard. I was just a kid.”

“Jesus.” Emerson propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him.

“She found him out back with a shovel just covering this wooden box with dirt. She made him go, but that didn’t last for long.” He blinked a few times, trying to force the emotion back inside of him. “If she took him back after that, then I don’t think anything short of him killing me will keep him away the next time. I can’t risk pissing him off enough that he takes it out on her or Sam. I can handle it.”

Emerson tasted the salt from her own tear on her lips, but she didn’t bother to wipe it. Why should she hide it? “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“That’s life though, ain’t it?” He laughed lightly and rolled to. His back, with his arms above his head.

“It shouldn’t be. You’re a pain in the ass, Dean, but you don’t deserve this.”

“We all get a lot more than we deserve, Em. Trust me on that.”

She thought back to the tremble in her Mom’s fingers, the spilled wine bottle staining the kitchen floor red. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“But the good thing is, I guess it goes both ways.”

“How do you mean?”

“God dishes out the bad shit. Let’s my dad beat me fuckin’ purple, and then he sends you. ‘S all I’m sayin’.”

Emerson laid back down, settling her head on his still bare chest. She held the ice pack in place, even though it was sweating and causing her fingers to tingle. “This has nothing to do with God.”

“You sound sure.”

“I can’t believe in something that would let this happen. He could’ve killed you.”

“But he didn’t.”

“This time.”

“Em,” Dean sighed, tilting her chin up. He looked down at her. He wiped another tear off her cheek. “We’re not friends. You don’t have to worry about me. Tomorrow you’ll get up and this’ll all feel like a dream. I shouldn’t even be here at all.”

Emerson didn’t know when she fell asleep. She settled back into Dean and cried for him silently. He occasionally wiped her cheeks and hummed sleepy noises into her hair. It was a moment lost in space, where a pain made for one was shared between the two of them. But when she woke up, he was gone. The sun came through the curtains and she reached out, her fingers brushing the empty bed. The only indication that he was ever there was the melted ice pack on the edge of the comforter.

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

Emerson’s eyes met his, and she let out a breath that she’d been holding. “I don’t have all the answers, you know?”

“You don’t have to have them all,” he offered with a smile. “Most of them we can figure out together.” Dean reached out carefully and touched her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes tightly. She could hear the tapping of raindrops multiple as the sky opened up above them. “I can’t make you any promises. No guarantees. I’m broken, and I don’t know when I will be well again. If I’m ever well again…”

“But?”

“But… I want you. I want you, Dean Winchester. I want all of you. The parts that are infuriating, annoying, fucked up, charming, beautiful…”

Emerson watched his eyes open wider as his smile widened on his cheeks. The skin under his freckles pinked up in a warm blush. The skin around his lips wrinkled and his eyes crinkled as he let out a relieved laugh. “I was wrong,” he whispered, shaking his head. “This… so much better than the night sky.” He held her face now with both hands, lightly enough so she could push him away if it was too much.

“There he goes again folks,” she whispered, her bottom lip hanging open just enough to let out a ragged breath. “Always knows the right thing to say.”

“I want to kiss you. Can… is that okay?”

She closed her eyes again and evaluated her heartbeat in her chest, the flips of her stomach. She knew she was safe with him. In that moment she was safe. “That’s okay.”

He leaned in to her slowly, treating her with care, and he kissed her. It was a brush at first, like the way she’d touched his bruised ribs a lifetime ago. In his kiss he seemed to pull some of the pain right out of her. He had a strong back, she knew. Strong enough to carry his burdens and hers. He pulled back. The kiss was quick, long enough just to try it out, to make sure that she was still okay. Emerson loved him for that.

“I want you, too, by the way.” He smiled, rubbing his nose against hers. “All of you. The parts that piss me off, that make me want to scream, the part that holds everything back, the part that loves her sister, the stubborn parts, the parts that remind me that I’m alive. Maybe it ain’t a picture book, but it’s so much better. It’s complicated, its true, and fuck it’s _real_.”

Emerson smiled and fought the urge to cry again and even though he still held her cheeks in his hands, she reached across and took his face in hers. “Well, I’ll be damned, Winchester, it looks like for once in our lives we actually agree on something.”

They leaned in together, pressing their foreheads together, and for just a second they were happy. As long as a breath, a kiss stolen in the darkness. They were wrapped in each other, their shared pain tangled together in a complicated web. They closed their eyes, drinking in the moment. Sometimes when things are good, _really_ good, it’s impossible to see outside of the bubble that’s been created by that happiness. This was the case with Dean Winchester and Emerson Maklen, because as they enjoyed their moment of peace, they missed the dark droplets of rain sliding down the sides of the tent like blood. They didn’t notice the gentle sizzle as the rain splattered and ate through the ropes holding the tent upright. They didn’t notice that even though it was mid afternoon, that the sun had completely disappeared in the sky behind black clouds that were only illuminated by red electric strikes that danced between the clouds and the sky.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are feelings you will never find words for; you will learn to name them after the ones who gave them to you.” – Maza Dohta

**-30 Days After-**

 

Being with Dean didn’t erase what Gordon did, no one could do that, but the way he was looking at her helped. That glint in his eyes and shadow of a smile on the corner of his lips dulled that pain that lingered. He made her stomach flip with the possibilities that he held behind his gentle green eyes. It made her dizzy. As their fingers laced together, she thought that maybe, just maybe things would be okay.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

Thunder interrupted their gentle embrace, causing the ground to pulse beneath them. “Dean?” Emerson murmured, her eyes wide as her head turned up to spot the deep burn marks that were streaking down the sides of the tent from the rain.

“Shit,” he said, immediately shuffling to his feet. “Let’s get your stuff, we’ve gotta go.”

She stood up and grabbed her own bag, tossing Dean Pheli’s. They were already packed up. Ever since Gordon attacked her, Em was ready to run. Most of the time she still slept in her boots. “What are we going to do about the rain?”

“Here,” Dean said, grabbing the blankets from the twins bed pads and wrapped them around Emerson.

“What about you?” She looked at him. He wore his flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up. He didn’t exactly look protected.

He rolled down the sleeves and buttoned it up to his neck. “I’ll manage. Let’s go.”

“No fucking way.”

“Listen,” Dean said, grabbing her shoulders gently to make her look at him. His cheeks were flushed under his freckles, and his lips were pulled tightly over his teeth. He looked serious. He looked afraid. “We don’t have time to argue. You trust me?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said, touching his cheek. They were together, which meant she had to trust him. She owed him that. “But, yeah, I do.”

“I’ll guide you. Stay under the blanket. We are getting Phel and Sam, and we will find cover.” He put the blankets over her head, and his hand rested on her lower back. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

 

**-2 Years Before-**

“Ready?”

“No,” Dean grunted. He was gripping two bars on either side of him. His knee was in some kind of metal and fabric contraption, and he hadn’t walked in months. Physical therapy was the bane of his existence. It was the last fucking place he wanted to be. His therapists name was Anna and with her red flowing hair and quick retorts, he often couldn’t look at her without seeing Charlie. Charlie smiling and telling jokes, then Charlie in pieces strewn around him, which usually sent him into a panic attack. He would fall over, sweating, weeping, his heart rate pounding in his ears like an explosive blast echoing through the desert.

“Whenever you’re ready, Dean. I cleared my schedule.”

“Why would you do that?” He gritted his teeth, still avoiding Anna’s face. He could see her scrubs and white tennis shoes, tapping impatiently.

“Because I know you like to stall and run into my next appointment. Now you can’t do that. You’re my last one of the day.”

“But don’t you want to go home eventually?” He groaned, his arms already shaking from having to hold himself up. He was so fucking weak, and the reminder had his eyes stinging.

“Go home to who?” He watched her knees lower as she squatted down so her face could meet his. “I’m here to help you. Being in the hospital is miserable. You’re punishing yourself. I can see that. It won’t get better until you let yourself heal. It’s one step at a time, you just have to start.”

“God you’re really preaching, ain’t ya?” He wanted to spit at her. He wanted to hug her. “As if you know what it’s like.”

“It’s my job to know.”

“Well you better start working a little harder on that, _Sweetheart_.” He said it like an insult, like venom.

“You want to be mad at me? That’s fine.” Anna stood up, crossing her arms. “Be mad. Be pissed. Just come over here and say it to my face.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t walk over there. He just wanted to be left alone to atrophy in the dark. He didn’t talk about the dark thoughts that danced behind his eyes, the insomnia that kept him up at night. He didn’t talk about the nightmares that followed him even when he was awake.

“Don’t be a coward, Winchester. You’re better than that.”

“You don’t know me,” he snapped, his eyes finally up level with hers. “You don’t know that I’m better.”

“I know what the people who visit you say when you turn them away. Your brother? The pretty blonde? Your old platoon? They all tell a lot of stories about the kind of man that you are.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Anna challenged, her eyes narrowed in on him. “Show me the truth, Dean.”

She was touching a live wire, poking a nerve. He hadn’t slept past a nap in over a week. They were weaning him off of the pain medicine to keep him from being addicted. He was awake. He was in pain, and he was fucking pissed off.

“God, shut up will you? I can’t stand it. I can’t fucking stand it!”

_“Bradbury! Bradbury, shit, fuck. I can’t see! Call out to me! Charlie!”_

His chest hurt and he wanted to hit something. He wanted to punch and scream, break his fingers, and seep into the ground where no one could find him again. His whole life he stayed alive for Sam, but in that moment he felt so fundamentally broken that he didn’t see the point. There was no meaning him. Sometimes something was so unrepairable that it’s better, more humane, to just leave it that way. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Then you don’t want to read this?” Anna pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half twice.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, a bead of sweat rolling from between his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose and into his mouth.

“The blonde left it the last time she tried to check in.”

Dean frowned and let out a ragged breath. His fingers curling around the bars tightly. He tried to catch his breath, to not collapse right there. “No, I don’t want to see that.” She was the last person he wanted to hear from. He didn’t want to see her, hear from her. He didn’t want her pity.

“You don’t want to hear this?” Anna challenged, unfolding the page. “Dear Dean, leaving you laying in that hospital bed may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Stop it,” he grunted, his head turning up just to catch a flash of her red hair. His eyes brimmed with tears.

“I know that you are hurting. You’re hurting in a way that I can’t possibly understand, but I just need you to know.”

“I said fucking stop!”

Anna went straight to Dean to be there if he fell. He didn’t even notice, he was too focused on the letter, on the words, her words, that he didn’t feel himself take a step. “You’re doing great, come on Dean, lets make it to the end of the bars. You got this.” He stumbled forward, his leg giving out. Anna caught him, her hands in his. He could feel Emerson’s letter crush between their clasped hands.

A tear rolled down his cheek as white hot pain rushed through him, but it wasn’t the pain from his knee, it was something else altogether.

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

Dean and Emerson exited the tent in a sprint. His hand was on her back guiding her. It took everything in him to focus forward and not cry out from the rain pelting onto his skin, sizzling in his hair, melting through his flannel. He put an arm up to cover his eyes, because the last thing he needed was to be blindduring the damn apocalypse.

His hands curled into the blankets covering her back and he hoped to hell that the layers were enough to protect her, as the speckles of deep red rain left droplet sized burns on his fist. His foot landed in a hole, his knee twisting. Pain rushed up his leg right into his gut, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not while she was on the line. Not after all the pain she already had to shoulder alone.

“Dean?”

He heard Emerson like she was caught on a breeze, stifled by the storm. She was under his fingers, but his head and skin were buzzing. Like always, he felt like he was too far away. He was always too far away.

The world was red. It was the color of the rose he handed Emerson at homecoming.   _“Fine, but this isn’t a date. We are going for our siblings.”_ The color of her dress as she danced with him, their hands brushing. _“Why aren’t you always like this?”_ It was the color of his moms apron as she puttered around the kitchen, trying to make use of herself by pretending she cooked the Kentucky Fried Chicken herself. _“I’m not good at this, but you always have something to eat. Don’t you?”_ It was the color of Charlie’s hair. The wisps that caught in the breeze that escaped her cap. _“Sargent Winchester, you can’t lie to me. I’ve seen that look before.”_ It was the color of blood. Blood pooling under her missing limbs. Blood dripping out of his mouth after his fathers fist connected with his teeth. _“You’re no son of mine.”_ Blood on Emersons bedroll After Gordon attacked her.

Everything was red, and Deans run was slowing. The tent felt so far away, and his head was spinning. Just as he was losing his footing, he felt an arm slide under him. Emerson had flung her blankets over his shoulders as she supported him on his. Her arm was out of the blankets now, as she met his eyes under the blanket. Red liquid rolled down his cheek. She reached up and wiped it without a wince. “There’s room for both of us. We aren’t doing this Titanic, shit, Dean. We will end better than them.”

And they went forward with gritted teeth and squinting eyes. They fell into the Winchester’s tent, having used up all their energy running and fighting the pain that radiated through their skin. Emerson threw off the blanket immediately and rolled Dean over to his back. She pulled his head into her lap. He was barely conscious, but he could see Sam, Pheli, and Emerson’s face in the red haze. “Sweetheart, I think I’ve got a thing for ya.”

Emerson blinked a tear out of her eye and pressed her lip together. “You do, Dean. It’s a big thing.”

“We are running out of time,” Sam said anxiously. “It’s not safe.”

“He’s hurt,” Em said, her voice far away. “I don’t know if we can move him.”

“We don’t have a choice. Get ready.”

 

**-17 Years Before-**

 

“Get ready!” Mr. Maklen said as he pushed a six year old Emerson on her bike. Dean was sitting on his porch and eating a popsicle just watching her.

She petaled hard, her blonde pigtails poking out of her lopsided helmet. She was all elbows and knees, leaning forward with her tongue between her teeth as she focused.

The Maklen sisters were annoying at best. They were in first grade with Sammy and he always got flustered when they were around. _“They’re just girls, who cares?”_ Dean never understood. Girls were the same as boys, except they cried more and never wanted to get dirty.

There was something different, though, about Emerson with her scuffed knees and serious expression. She had no training wheels and Mr. Maklen released her, even though she’d been repeating _don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let go_ like it was her mantra, like a battle cry. All Dean could think was, _she trusted him._ Fathers weren’t supposed to break their children’s trust, he knew. But they still did. He knew that, too.

She pedaled down the road, zipping along the gravel. She wasn’t wobbling, or afraid. She looked good, brave even. Dean grinned at her, moments away from cheering her on, when the front wheel of her bike hit a patch of sand, sending her skittering to the ground. The bike slid out from underneath her, the right side of her body scraping against the asphalt.

Before Dean knew what he was doing he was running to her, his popsicle left behind in the yard. “Em, are you okay?” He fell to his knees next to her, staring at her with wide eyes.

Her face was in the sand, one of her pigtails hung limply where the pink scrunchie was falling out of her hair. She propped herself up on her elbows and spit out some blood before turning to him with a wide, newly toothless grin. “What do _you_ want?”

He looked at Emerson, completely enamored, his mouth hanging open. “I saw you fall.”

“Yeah, so?” She asked, wiping her bloody saliva with the back of her hand. Her brown eyes glistened in the sunlight, with small flecks of gold.

The corners of Dean’s mouth tugged, pulling his lips into a wide grin. She got up and wiped the rocks off her knees and hopped on her bike, leaving her small front tooth behind in the dirt. Emerson Maklen was officially the coolest person that Dean had ever met, you know, for a six year old.

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

Emerson let Dean rest in her lap, his eyes had flickered closed, and her fingers were resting on his pulse point. His heartbeat was a little quick, but he seemed stable. “It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you.” _I can be strong enough for the both of us,_ she thought. It was the least she could do, since he was always doing It for her. Her own skin ached and tingled, but her time in the rain was a fraction from his.

Sam pulled out their protective gear, gloves, jackets, and gas masks. Pheli slid into her long pants and stuffed them into her boots. “Em, you need to get ready.”

Emerson’s eyes didn’t leave Deans resting face. “What if…”

“No, we aren’t doing that,” Pheli said, putting her hand on her sisters shoulder. “No fucking way, okay?”

Em pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, you’re right.” She reaches down and placed a kiss in his hair, before whispering against his ear. “Dean Winchester, I swear to whatever god is listening that if you leave me when we are just getting started, I will never forgive you.”

His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled just a little bit. “Think you’ve got a thing for me too, Maklen.”

“Shut up.”

She smiled and she kissed him. It was soft, because he was hurt, and because she was afraid. She spent her whole life being strong. She was strong enough for her and Pheli, for her mom, strong enough to handle her father leaving, and strong enough to watch Dean walk away from her over and over again. No matter how strong she was, Emerson was never strong enough to say yes. To say yes to him, to what she wanted. It was always someone else. The last time she felt close, that forever felt like an option, he was laying in a hospital bed and a few days later she wasn’t allowed to see him again. To say that her heart hurt was a vast understatement. So she kissed him softly, because a brush was all she could handle. Any more pressure and she may burst.

Pheli’s eyes were on them, locked and examining. “Okay, lets get you sitting up, lover boy.”

Dean smirked, though the smile didn’t meet his eyes. The girls helped him sit up, and Sam helped get him into the gear. Emerson and Pheli moved to the back of the tent to finish getting ready and to give the brothers a little space. “So, it’s a thing?” Phel whispered, eyeing Dean.

“What?”

“Don’t _what_ me!”

Emerson smiled and gave her sister a quick nod.

“Yes!” Pheli squealed a little too loudly, throwing her arms around her sister. The girls hugged, despite the itching on Emerson’s burns, she laughed.

She was still laughing when a bright red flash of light shot across the sky, lighting up even the inside of the tent like a flare gun. “What the fuck was that?” Emerson asked, turning her face up.

“No idea,” Sam commented, quietly, his hands still on Dean’s hood, adjusting it.

“We need to go,” Dean agreed as a blaring alarm started ringing through the camp. “Help me up, Sammy.”

Sam gripped his brothers arm, yanking him up, causing Dean to grunt.

“Where are we going?” Emerson asked, gripping her gas mask in her hands.

“We are getting a Jeep and getting the fuck out of here. Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ve got ya. I’ll take point, Sam you follow up the end?”

“You got it.”

Dean slid his gas mask on, and the rest of the group followed. The bleep bleep bleep of the alarm still rang in their ears, only slightly muted from the mask over their ears. He held out a hand to Emerson, and she took it eagerly. His gloved hand felt heavy in hers. Dean gave her a nod, and she met his nod with her own.

The rain had lessened outside. It was more of a gentle drizzle, a hiss like a snake hiding in the grass. Emerson gripped Dean’s hand tighter. Apart from the alarm cutting through the air, things seemed quiet. Eerie. Empty.

The main gate was down, electricity pulsing through the air. The trees around the gate were on fire, the medical buildings, and coffee cart were all engulfed. Golden flecks of heat licked up toward the dark sky, deep black bellows of smoke curled and mingled with the clouds. There was a weight in the air. Something palpable. It felt sort of like a post disaster film reel, flickering on aged film without sound.

At least it _did_ , until it didn’t.

The group saw Castiel before they heard him. He was running toward them, gas mask on, waving his arms wildly. Emerson squinted at him. It was hard to see through the smoke, and haze of red drizzle, but from where she stood it looked like he was running from something.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Graphic violence, gore, some insinuated violence toward children at the very end, dark material, and language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Monsters are real, ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win.” – Steven King

**-2 Years Before-**

 

Dean laid in his hospital bed, watching the ceiling tiles warp and wave from the morphine pumping through his IV into the vein in his arm. It quieted the ache of his leg, his burns, but it didn’t quiet the ache that was so deep inside of him that no surgery could possibly reach it. He was only grateful that he didn’t lose his sight, because at least the way that he was kept him from seeing Charlie at all hours of the day. He only saw her when he closed his eyes, and he only heard her in his nightmares. So he tried to stay awake, but the drugs made him tired, so the nightmares came and most of the time he accepted them like an old friend. It was what he deserved, after all. They were _laughing_ , for god sakes. The image of her smiling face was burned into his retinas, the last moment when he was still Dean Winchester, when his friend was still alive. He’d never forget laying there in the dirt, with his leg twisted the wrong way, pain coming in waves just knowing that no one was coming. He used to believe that hope was something essential, something that everyone had, but as he laid there in the heat of the desert among the broken pieces of his friend, he felt the hope leave his body like a piece of his soul. It was something he feared that he’d never get back. Maybe he didn’t deserve to have it back.

A brief knock came to his door, and he groaned internally before turning his head away from the door. “I don’t want any visitors. Come back later.”

“That’s no way to greet your Commanding Officer, Winchester,” a familiar, gravelly voice met his ears and for just a second his heart squeezed.  

It was only for a second.

“Don’t have one of those.”

“Dean.” Castiel opened the door to his hospital room, but stayed hovering in the doorway, presumably taking in Dean’s broken state.

“Cas, I’m… I’m tired, can you just come back later?” Dean asked desperately, gripping the sterile bed sheets in his fingers.

“I can’t come back later. You know that,” his friend sighed. “You won’t let anyone in to see you.”

“But yet you’re still here,” he grouched, the sting behind his eyes almost enough to risk closing them. Almost.

“Turns out the nurses like a man in uniform,” Castiel joked as he closed the door. His boots making the familiar heavy-footed sound as he crossed the room to Dean’s hospital bed. “Plus, they’re worried about you.”

His lip curled up at that, and he hastily turned over on his side, wincing from the new angle against his bad knee. “Well everyone should just mind their goddamn business. How am I supposed to heal if people won’t let me rest?”

“Dean,” he sighed, standing no more than a foot away from the bed. “Shutting everyone out isn’t the answer. I… _we_ miss you. It wasn’t your fault. If anything, I shouldn’t have sent her along. I should’ve checked on you both sooner… I should’ve…”

“Stop,” Dean said sharply, Castiel’s words hitting him like shrapnel. He rubbed his aching chest with the heel of his hand. “It’s no one’s fault.” _But mine_ , he silently reminded himself.

“You’re almost right.” His striking blue eyes met Dean’s. “The only one at fault is whoever placed that landmine. No one else’s. No matter how much we want to beat ourselves up over it.”

 _Easier said than done_ , Dean thought bitterly. He offered a smile that settled on his lips, but it reached no further. Cas was his friend, after all, he didn’t deserve the silent treatment. None of them deserved the shit that they got, though. It was the luck of the draw. “I’m glad you stopped by. Nice seein’ your face.”

“Glad yours is all in one piece.”

“Right,” Dean said tightly. He grunted and shifted his weight to lay flat on his back. “Can you get the nurse? I just... I think I need some more meds.”

“Sure, Winchester. Of course.”

He hoped he appeased his former officer, as he watched Castiel disappear into the hall, and he let out a breath that he’d been holding. It hurt. Everything fucking hurt and no amount of morphine would help. Not this time.

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

In a different circumstance, it might have been funny watching Castiel in a gas mask waving his arms like he was at some kind of concert. He was running out of the smoke like it was a dramatic display, and it kind of was, but there was something deeply unsettling about the way he pulled his mask up to uncover his lips, despite the risk in the air, just to shout. “ _Rouges_!”

As if on queue, a hand reached out from the mist, grabbing ahold of Castiel’s shoulder and yanking him backwards, knocking the feet out from under him. His gas mask rolled away as his head slammed onto the ground. He didn’t move immediately, likely dazed from the impact. It wasn’t until the Rogue bent down onto its knees that he finally started to scream.

Dean let go of Emerson’s hand and instantly started to run, his bad leg be damned.

“Dean!” Emerson called, moving her own gas mask. She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The world was unbelievably still, quiet, the _bleep bleep bleep_ of the alarm ringing out into the air, matching Castiel’s screams. It broke the quiet like shattering glass.

Before Dean could reach him, another set of hands reached out of the mist. It was like when rain would start to fall, one or two drops at first before a complete downpour.

Dean didn’t slow, he wouldn’t, he _couldn’t_. Not after what happened when he was in Afghanistan. He refused to lose anyone else, not on his watch. Emerson knew that about him, she knew as he pushed forward harder. Something settled within her then, as she watched the Cas hold off the Rogue with his forearm, as it’s fingers dug hot into the fabric covering his skin. She knew that they wouldn’t be able to save everyone. A lot of people were about to die.

Sam had dropped Pheli’s hand when Emerson wasn’t looking, and he was running after Dean, too. The older brother hoisted his gun off of his back and pointed at the Rogue, ready to shoot.

“Dean!” Emerson called, her feet leaving the ground before she could consider the ramifications, because the mist was clearing, and she could finally see that they were _fucked_.

A shot rang out in the air as the Rogue on top of Castiel collapsed onto him. Cas pushed the limp corpse away, looking to Dean with fearful gratitude. The ground was soft under Em’s feet as her and Pheli ran after the stubborn Winchester brothers, who were running directly into a massive horde of Rogues.

Sam held out his arm, stopping Dean mid stride. They were frozen in place, as Cas’ grateful smile melted on his cheeks. He started to get on his feet, but before he got the chance he was surrounded by gripping hands, biting teeth, peeling, bubbling flesh. A larger Rogue stumbled to him, and when Cas caught the look of him his mouth hung open.

Emerson caught up to Dean, grabbing his shoulder in order to hold him in place, and that’s when she saw it. The hat on the head of the Rogue, the hair prickling through the burning skin on its chin, the military jacket that matched Castiel’s. “ _Benny_ ,” she murmured as the Rogue reached forward with a strong hand, grabbing Cas’ throat and yanking hard.

There was so much blood. It sprayed out of the open neck wound, between the Rogue’s fingers, onto it’s face. He couldn’t even scream, he just gurgled, staring with wide eyes as another Rogue reached behind him, it’s teeth biting into his shoulder, burning through his layers of clothing. When he opened his mouth to try to scream again, black blood spurted from his lips, his face was pale as they watched the life fade out of him. Four more Rogues surrounded him, circling, grabbing at him, screaming an inhuman wail.

“Dean we have to go,” Emerson said tightly, finally able to force her body to move before they were spotted. “Dean, hey, we have to go.” Her voice was gentle, but her hand on his shoulder was firm and squeezing.

He turned to her, and although she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew that something clicked with him. He nodded, and grabbed her hand again. He held up his gun in his free hand, and Emerson held hers up in agreement. She pulled her mask back down and they all turned to look for the Jeep.

Time was running out, a count down, a ticking clock, it was always like that with them. There was never enough time, but they always managed to pull out, didn’t they?

 

**-5 Years Before-**

The countdown to Midnight was winding up. Pheli was already celebrating, sitting in Sam’s lap, her arms tossed around his shoulders lazily. Her fingers were tugging on his growing hair.

Emerson rolled her eyes and stared into her cup. It was just Coke, but she wished it was more. She never fit in at parties. She wasn’t the type.

She sat down her coke and flattened out the black dress that Pheli picked out for her, deciding that maybe she would go to the bathroom. She was sick of standing around and not being talked to, no one ever talked to her at parties, and Phel said it was her resting bitch face, while she insisted that it was something else altogether.

She tugged on the black lace choker around her neck, feeling unbelievably claustrophobic. The party was at Sam and Dean’s house, since their parents were on a ski trip. The house was pulsing with music, and filled with people from Dean’s graduating class and some that were in classes with Sam and the girls. Em hadn’t seen Dean all night, not that she was looking for him, but it was still weird that he wasn’t hanging around annoying her.

She ran her fingers along the wall, squeezing past bodies kissing in the hallway. It was hot in the house, the air damp from the sheer amount of people. Emerson wanted to just be away from it all. A party wasn’t her idea of fun, she would’ve rather been home, somewhere open, somewhere that she could hear herself think, somewhere that maybe she could just sit and talk with another person. Her stomach flipped at the insinuation deep in her mind, and she pushed it back, because there was no point.

She’d splash her face with some water in the bathroom to get some clarity. They were so close to Midnight, that she would be able to easily sneak out when the year changed. She opened the bathroom door, and immediately stopped in her tracks. There was a couple in the bathroom, the woman was being kissed down her neck, her back was arched, and her head was lulled back, her hair dipping into the sink. The man held her up, her hand in his pants, as he groped her chest. The muscles on his bare back flexed as his hands moved over her curves. Emerson wanted to turn and walk away, but she couldn’t make her feet move. She couldn’t make them move until the girl squealed, covering up her breasts with the man’s own naked chest.

He turned and met Em’s eyes. _Dean_. His mouth hung open. “Em, what...”

“Sorry!” She squeaked, slamming the door. She ran, pushing past the couples in the hall. Her fingers gripped her choker, ripping it away from her neck, because _fuck_ , she couldn’t breathe.

“Five, four, three, two, _one_! Happy New Year!”

Emerson opened up the front door, running into the yard, her stocking covered knees falling into the snow. The yard was dark despite the explosions of fireworks overhead. She needed to get up, go home, and shower at the very least. She wanted to curl up in bed and never leave again.

“Em,” Dean said, behind her.

 _Goddamnit_! “Its midnight, don’t you have someone to kiss?”

“No.”

“Sure looked like it to me. I bet your date will be missing you. I’m good, just... go.”

“Em.”

Her bare fingers curled into the snow, and she clamped her eyes shut tightly. _What is the point of it all? Why is he doing this?_ “What, Dean?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You can do whatever you want.”

She heard his heavy boots taking steps toward her through the soft padded snow. “You shouldn’t have had to walk in and see that.”

“No one should. You need to learn how to use a lock,” she said tightly, urging herself to stand.

“I...”

“What?” She turned to look at him and immediately frowned. He’d shut the door behind him, but he stood there, out in the yard in just his jeans, his t-shirt was balled up in his hands. “What the fuck, dude?”

“What? I... oh.” His cheeks turned a deep shade of scarlet and he quickly put his shirt on, covering up his freckled chest, and that line of hair from his belly button all the way below his belt. “Shit I just saw you upset and I... I’ve had a bit to drink,” he said sheepishly, his hand reaching behind his head to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“So, you just left her there?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess I did.”

She couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Why would you do that?”

He shifted his weight. “Wasn’t really about her.”

“Right,” she murmured. _What was it about?_

“Em, I...”

He had that _look_. Emerson knew that look all too well, it was the look that told her that he was going to say too much. It was that _confession_ look. He was drunk, some girls hand was just down his pants, and no matter what else happened, or what she may feel for him when he looked at her with that face, he was still Dean Winchester. It still wasn’t right. So she reached down and grabbed a hand full of snow and threw it at him.

“What the...” His eyes were wide as he looked down at the snow rolling down his chest. “Did you just throw a snow ball at me, Maklen?”

“You _must be_ drunk. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“You’re dead,” he said with a smirk, reaching down and balling snow in his own hands.

Emerson quickly shuffled to her feet, not able to get away before a snowball hit her back. She turned to him with her mouth wide open in shock. “You seriously hit me?”

“You hit me first!”

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed. It was a challenge and they both leaned down, grabbing snow, and pelting it in each other’s direction. It was cold, wet, and they were laughing. He dumped handfuls of snow down the front of her dress. “ _Dean_!”

He laughed and pulled her into a hug, nuzzling his face into her hair. She took the opportunity to slide her leg between his and kick his feet out from under him, unknowingly sending them both backward into the snow. His back hit the ground, and he stared up at her, out of breath. She laughed, looking down at him.

Dean reached up and brushed her hair out of her face and held her cheek. “You should smile more often.”

She rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t tell people when to smile. It’s rude.”

“It’s just the truth. You look beautiful when you smile, and when you don’t, but even more when you do.” He leaned up, his eyes fluttering closed and _holy fuck_ , he was trying to kiss her.

“Dean,” she squeaked, putting her fingers on his lips to stop him.

“What? Oh shit, I’m sorry. You don’t want to, I was reading the signal wrong.”

“You were just kissing another girl five minutes ago. It sort of looked like you were going to do _more_ than kiss her. She sure as hell was going to do more than kiss you,” Emerson said, shifting her weight off of him. She sat in the snow, suddenly feeling the cold that seemed to seep through her clothes and her skin, deep into her bones until it chilled her soul. “It doesn’t matter that you left her in there. You don’t want me, Dean. If you did, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

She brushed her fingers along his jaw, staring at him with more longing than she usually allowed herself. “You are very sweet, Dean Winchester. You know just the right things to say, but you don’t just have to _say_ what’s right. It has to be right.”

“It...”

“Shh, don’t,” she pleaded softly. “Go back inside. Celebrate with your brother. I’m just the girl next door that you like to annoy. Sleep off your hangover, and I’ll see you later.” She stood up, brushing the snow off of her tights, offering him a hand to help pull him up. He put his hand in hers and stood up effortlessly, without using her help at all. He just stood there then, looking down at her, with her hand in his. He was looking at her like he wanted to say something. It was that same face again that made Emerson’s stomach hurt. “Dean...”

He pulled her against him, cradling her head in his hand, his face in her hair. He seemed to breathe in the scent of her. They stood there for a few seconds, before he pulled back and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Happy New Year, Em.”

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

The Jeep was in running distance, but in the exact direction of the Rogues. It was still parked near the fallen gate, and the fact that it was still parked there amidst the disaster left Dean with a really bad gut feeling.

He pointed to the Jeep and looked to Sam, who nodded knowingly. The two brothers were able to read each other easily after their years together. They would have to run and fight their way through the horde. He turned to Emerson and pulled up his mask. She followed suit. “Listen to me,” he said, immediately holding her face. “We’ve gotta run. We are gonna have to fight, hard. If something happens to me you will not stop.”

“What I...”

“Shh, stop. We don’t have time to argue.” His thumb traced her jaw, and his chest ached looking at her. Something inside of him worried that he may never see her again. “You run and you don’t look back. You get the fuck out no matter what the cost, because I...” _Fuck. I can’t say it, not like that_. “You’re family, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Her eyes scanned his and she nodded, pulling his lips to hers for one last urgent kiss. He bled his heart and soul into her, pressing their bodies full flush together, and the moment that they released their embrace, he felt an emptiness that travelled through him so deeply and endlessly that he thought he may never feel whole again.

They pulled their masks back on, and they ran forward.

The mist had almost completely dissipated, revealing the true amount of Rogue’s that they were dealing with. There were dozens. Some had clearly migrated from the city, they were older, almost all bones and hanging flesh, compared others who looked more like Benny. They were _new_ , recently changed. Dean hadn’t believed it before, not really, but when his eyes met the dead, lifeless eyes of Ash, his mullet still swinging low behind his head, matted with blood, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

He didn’t want to do it, but it seemed like just about everything that Dean Winchester did was something that he didn’t want to do. So he raised his gun, aimed, and blew his old friend away.

The mob that was leaning over Castiel popped up at the sound of the shot echoing through the camp. The Rogue that used to be Benny turned, and opened his mouth that was covered in wet blood and let out an unholy screech. His bony finger pointed out to the group, and the twins ran. It was all that they could do. Sam and Dean hung back, picking off the Rogues that they could with their guns as the girls pushed forward, their feet slipping in the mud.

The continuous sounds of shots ringing in the empty air was muffled from the sound of Dean’s heart racing in his ears, and the breathing that filtered in and out of the gas mask. _Keep it together, Winchester._ He glanced back to see that the girls were almost at the Jeep, and he let out a sigh of relief. He knew that’d be the hardest part. They could get away if they reached the Jeep. All they had to do was reach the Jeep. 

He gave himself a second to breathe. He should’ve known better.

He felt the fingers curl around his shoulder, blistering, bony, with a grip that was paramount to a professional wrestler. Dean turned immediately on instinct and raised his weapon, sending the butt of the gun into the jaw of the Rogue. It dislocated with a loud _crack_. The creature blinked at him, it’s jaw hanging loose on its hinge, being held together by molten, dripping flesh. It’s tongue wiggled out like it hadn’t experienced fresh air before, and Dean thought he was going to throw up. He swallowed back the bile that grew in his throat, and turned the gun back on the creature, pressing the barrel to its forehead. _Bang_!

Another hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and just as he turned to administer another blow, he caught sight of a mask. _Sammy_ , he thought weakly. His brother raised his weapon and shot over Dean’s shoulder, causing his ears to ring out. Sam grabbed ahold of Dean’s arm and they ran.

The Rogues were on their tail. Dean could tell by the heat radiating at their backs, and the increasing sounds of groaning. It was either the horde, or the early bird special at Denny’s.

He couldn’t even pull a smile from the jokes floating around in his head, his own coping mechanism failing to let him relax back into step with Sam. It was all too close. They were running out of time. One misstep could ruin everything. He knew that all too well. He couldn’t even count how many two-steps back he took. Letting his father wail on him, swearing into the military, not kissing Emerson at the homecoming dance all those years ago, putting his tongue in the mouth of a sorority girl on New Years Eve, getting in the humvee with Charlie, giving Lisa the shit he should’ve given to Em, and letting Emerson walk away to the fire and sit down with Gordon. There were some things that were just on him. He knew that. There was nothing he could do about the past, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again. He was going to get the girls and Sam out alive, no matter what the cost.

“What’s the hold up?” He asked as they reached the Jeep, pulling up his gas mask.

“There are no keys,” Emerson said anxiously, her own mask on the seat in the Jeep.

“I can hot wire it,” Dean said quickly, handing her his gun. “Keep ‘em away.”

He opened the driver side door and crouched down to look under the steering wheel. He pulled out his pocket knife, flipping out the screwdriver extension and twisted his wrist to unscrew the panel. _Bang_! “Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling the pieces apart to display the wires. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. It stung and burned from the rain. He knew he had to look like hell, because fuck, he felt like it. There were a variety of colors twisted within he wire column, and he swallowed heavily. Not every vehicle was the same, but he anticipated if he connected the pink with the blue that he would get the engine going.

“Dean, what’s the hold up?” Sam called out, his voice shouting after several shots in conjunction. “We have company!”

“I’m fucking hurrying!” He shouted back, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove. He held the wires between his fingers and brushed them together a few times before the took. _One last thing_. He grabbed the red and yellow wires, saying a quick prayer to a god that he didn’t believe in before brushing them together. The Jeep started with a quick growl. “Thank god! Get in!”

_Bang!_

He slid into the drivers seat and the other three quickly piled in, slamming the doors shut. “Lock them manually,” he instructed, and looked up, putting the Jeep in gear, just to see that they were surrounded. “And put on your seatbelts.”

After the four consecutive clicks of metal buckles sliding into their locked position, Dean pressed his foot on the gas pedal. The Jeep jolted forward, his chest pressing against the locked belt, the vehicle climbed over the bodies with the unsettling sound of crunching bones. Emerson’s hand shot to his, her fingers gripping his tightly. He wanted to turn to look at her, but he couldn’t. He needed to focus forward and drive through the open gate. He had to get them to safety.

Dean glanced over his shoulder to check his blind spot before turning toward the gate. “Dean!” Emerson screamed, her hand squeezing his tightly.

“What? _Fuck_!” He slammed on the breaks, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. There was a figure in front of the Jeep staring at him, directly into his soul, with its head tilted, dark hair matted from blood, but still hanging limply down a bubbled, blistered arm. It’s mouth opened in a desperate biting motion, black saliva dripping out of its mouth and over its once nice teeth. The eyes never left Dean’s, and he wondered suddenly if they could remember. If they _knew_. The Rogue’s fingers were twisted into a red stained white blanket, and even through the blood stains he could see a careful blue embroidery name stitched in the corner of the blanket. _Ben_.

“Lis,” Dean muttered, his lips barely moving as her fingers raised and reached for him like she was asking for help, as if he could still help her, as if he didn’t fuck up so deeply _again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all so much for your patience! I’ve been going through some family drama lately that has me rather occupied, so between that and me signing up for too many bangs (oops hehe), I’ve been a bit slower than normal with updates. I appreciate all of your love and patience! I love this fic so much, and don’t you worry, I will see it through. We still have a long way to go. :) 
> 
> Scream at me @themoonandotherslikeit on tumblr if you so desire!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “They had always fitted together like pieces of an unsolved (and perhaps unsolvable) puzzle - the smoke of her into the solidness of him, the solitary ness of her into the gathering of him, the strangeness of her into the straightforwardness of him, the insouciance of her into the restraint of him. The quietness of her into the quietness of him.” - Arundhati Roy

**-15 Months Before-**

 

Dean came home from work, his hands covered in oil. He kicked off his boots, eager to hop into the shower and snuggle up against Lisa. She was his light in the darkness. Being with her was like the clouds finally opened up, letting him finally see the sky again. He’d spent so much time in the dark; it was damn good to finally have something worth waking up for.

The apartment was quiet, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep in bed watching a movie again. She’d been so tired lately, and she deserved some rest. He slowly opened the bathroom door so he could shower when he saw her sitting on the floor, with her back against the wall.

“Lis? Hey, you okay?” Dean looked down at her, confused. _Why is she sitting in here alone?_ Her face was in her hands, her elbows propped on her knees. “Are you sick? Baby?”

She burst into tears at his feet, and he lowered himself down in front of her. “Hey, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Lisa looked up at him through smudged, running mascara. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. He reached forward and wiped her makeup off under her eye with his thumb. “Talk to me.”

The least he could do was listen. She’d been there for him during his darkest moments over the last five months. Whatever it was, they could do it together, but she shook her head. He sighed; he had no right to push her to talk, and just as he moved to give her space, her hand extended in a fist. He glanced down at it, and she opened her palm, revealing a piece of white plastic that rested in her hand. Dean slowly took it from her, his eyes settling on two little blue lines crossing each other in a perfect plus sign. He swallowed hard. “You?

She nodded slowly, wiping her eyes. Lisa was watching him now, analyzing his reaction to the news that she was pregnant, the news that he was going to be a father. _A father._ His head was spinning.

“Oh Dean,” she murmured, reaching forward and wiping his cheeks with her thumbs. He was crying, and he hadn’t even noticed. “It’s… it’s okay.”

He looked at her, then, taking her in. Her messy dark hair, swollen cheeks, wide eyes, and he pulled her into his arms with a kiss. “We’re having a baby?”

His heart was squeezing in his chest, tighter and tighter, and he worried that he might burst. He could feel Lisa nodding against his cheek, and he let out the laugh that he was stifling previously.

Dean Winchester was going to be a father. It was laughable. It was unimaginable, but it was the truth. He pulled back from her, taking her hands in his. It was something that he’d never given himself permission to want, not after who his father was, but when he saw the plus sign it all came together in an instant. It clicked. “Lis… I love you. You know that, right? I’m here. I’m here for all of it, and honestly… fuck, I can’t wait for this.”

He crouched down and touched his lips to her stomach, whispering against the fabric of her shirt. “Hey little bean… I’m your dad, and I’ll love you forever.”

 

**-30 Days After-**

 

Dean’s eyes were fixed on the three little letters embroidered in the blanket. It was enough to make him want to vomit. It was too fucking much. Lisa, well the Rogue that used to be Lisa, still reached for him, stumbling closer.

_I’ll love you forever._

It felt like a lie. It all felt like such a lie.

“Dean,” Emerson whispered at his side.

He couldn’t look at Emerson; he couldn’t look away from Lisa’s empty, accusing stare. Guilt racked him, and regret began creeping its way up his spine to remind him of every mistake he’d ever made. He didn’t know where Ben was, but if Lisa was dead holding onto his blanket, he couldn’t have survived. Dean knew that it was on him. It shouldn’t have mattered that Ben wasn’t his blood, he already knew that family was more than blood, but he left anyway. He let his broken ego send him running. That was what he was good at, after all. He ran from home, ran from Emerson, ran from the military, ran from Lisa, and he was gearing up to run again. He couldn’t fucking deal with any of it, and if it was in his rear view mirror, then at least he would only have to face his problems when his eyes were closed.

Dean’s eyes settled on Lisa’s black teeth, horrible saliva dripping out of her open maw, and he remembered how beautiful her smile used to be. She had this way about her that could pull him from the darkness that he was so comfortable living in. He did his damndest throughout his entire life to not be the selfish one and to focus on everyone else, but Lisa got him at his worst, and now she was dead. That was on Dean. Her head tilted back, exposing her ripped out throat, likely made by teeth. Someone’s mouth was on her throat, chewing and ripping at her flesh until she changed into a creature. He wondered how long that lasted, and if it hurt. He wondered if there was a way to save her.

Em reached out and touched his forearm. “Dean,” she whispered again.

He couldn’t help Lisa, but he could still protect the Maklen’s and Sam. Dean had always dreamed about being with Emerson, even when he was trying not to, but he never thought that this was what it’d be like when he finally was able to be with her. He couldn’t save Lisa, she was already wasted, empty, and _dead_. The Rogue opened its mouth and let out a horrible wail, and he decided that it was about time that he put his past behind him, so he shifted the Jeep into gear and pressed down on the gas.

The sound was a sickening _crack_! The baby blanket was finally released from her death grip into the air. It spread out, as if it was trying to catch flight, but it fluttered downward in a swaying motion, until it settled in the mud. The Jeep climbed over the Rogue’s broken form, pushing forward to exit through the gate. The metal chain link pieces scraped along the outside of the Jeep in a painful screeching sound, but they were able to squeeze through.

He wasn’t sure if it was the sounds of the Jeep or the Rogue’s battle cry that called the rest of the horde over, but they were slowly, but surely, being chased. He had no concerns that they’d be able to outrun them, the Rogues were slow at best, and they were in a vehicle, but even as the distance between the Jeep and the creatures lengthened, he knew that they’d never stop running. They’d be running until the day that they died.

 

**-31 Days After-**

 

A thick, orange beam of sunlight pulled Emerson from a restless sleep. Her head was pressed against the window of the Jeep. She turned to her left to catch a glimpse of Dean. He looked exhausted, stiff. His hand was extended, gripping the wheel tightly, as he kept the Jeep straight. They were driving on a back road somewhere that Emerson didn’t recognize. She rubbed her eyes and sat up all of the way.

Pheli and Sam were asleep, cuddling together in the backseat. “Morning,” she whispered to Dean cautiously. She didn’t want to scare him, because he was obviously on edge, hell, they all were.

Dean’s eyes flickered to Emerson; they were red tinted and heavy from the need to sleep. “Hey,” he croaked his voice rough.

“You look tired, Dean. Let me drive.”

He shook his head, gripping the steering wheel tighter, somehow. “I’m good.”

“Dean,” Emerson warned gently. “Pull over.”

“Can’t, not safe.”

Her fingers brushed his on the steering wheel, and he turned toward her. She could hear his quick intake of breath, as he nodded quickly and pulled the Jeep off of the road at a rest area. It was an open picnic area surrounded by trees. “Come on,” she said softly, opening her door. Dean followed her, letting the doors shut Sam and Pheli in, the keys still in the ignition. Emerson walked to one of the picnic tables, sat on the tabletop, and patted the spot next to her.

He eyed her tiredly, before sitting down next to her.

The morning air was fresh, the sky clear of clouds, and the area around them was void of proof that the world was imploding around them. The red grass reaching up past their calves, twisting angrily, was serving as their only reminder that this world was not the one they were used to. “I thought some fresh air would do you good.”

As if her words gave him permission, he took a trembling inhale.

They sat in silence, not even a breeze to prompt the tree branches to dance or a bird’s song to interrupt the palpable quiet between them. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “About Lisa.”

He visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’m sorry, too. About what happened to you.”

She pressed her lips together in a line, a pressure behind her eyes and in her chest threatening to spill out of her. She refrained from the urge, because the moment she opened that gate, she was afraid that she would never be able to close it again. “This is all so fucked up.”

He exhaled quickly out of his nose in a small smile. “Understatement of the year.” His hands curled in on themselves in tight fists, his eyes focusing down on his lap. “I was supposed to protect you, both of you, and I failed. I can’t… no matter how hard I try this shit keeps happening. I can’t stop it. Everyone around me gets hurt.”

“It isn’t you, Dean. None of us could stop it, any of it. It isn’t on you to keep the world from spinning out of control, you’re just one person.”

He rubbed his eyes, turning his face away. He was shutting her out, trying to keep it together.

“Hey, why don’t we fix this up for you,” she murmured, touching his arm where his shirt was seared to his skin from being out in the rain. “It looks like it hurts.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Seriously? We’re going to do that?”

“Do what?”

“The whole tough thing. It’s a load of horse shit, and you know it.”

He offered a wryly smile to her and nodded. “It ain’t. You know me, Em; I’m a tough son of a bitch.”

Her eyes narrowed on his, and she pressed her thumb into his wound, causing him to yelp out, his eyes immediately swelling with tears. “You were saying?”

“Damn, Em. That’s cold.” He wiped his eyes with his thumb, but he was smiling again.

“Wait here,” she instructed, before walking back to the Jeep. She opened the back door to grab the medical kit from her bag.

“Em?” Pheli asked, sleep heavy in her voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she assured her sister. “We just need a minute. I’m going to take care of his wounds.”

Pheli nodded and snuggled back into Sam. “Be careful.”

“Will do,” Em said softly, before heading back to Dean. She sat back down next to him and pulled out the medical kit from her bag, along with Pheli’s tweezers. “I feel sort of bad for teasing her about these now.” She pinched them at the air. “They’re actually useful.”

“Who would’ve known?”

Emerson stood up again, unlatching her belt, pulling it from its loops. Dean’s eyes settled at her waist, his face immediately flushing. “What’re you doin’, Em?”

Her eyes met his, and she smirked, pulling the belt all the way off. “Giving you something to bite on, this is going to hurt.” She placed the belt in his hand, their fingers brushing.

He placed the belt between his teeth and looked outward at the road.

Emerson went to work, but it was more extensive than she imagined. She had to tug and pull away at the already-healing flesh to remove the fabric that seemed to fuse with his skin. She would pause and look up at him to apologize, but he never complained. He’d been through it before, she reminded herself, when he was deployed.

She’d never forget the sight of his skin, oozing and blistered from beneath the metal contraption holding his damaged leg in place when he was in the hospital.

There were a lot of things in Emerson’s life that gave her nightmares. The sight of her mother’s wine bottle shattering on the floor in a thousand pieces, the sound of the vent as it breathed for her, Dean’s heart stopping under her head as she laid with him, the explosion in the distance as the world that she knew ended, Gordon’s hand over her mouth, and _this_. She knew that it would never end. They’d stack up until she either crumbled or couldn’t feel anything at all. She didn’t know which one was worse.

Dean winced under her fingers as she pulled a long piece of fabric away, fresh blood pooling in the burn. Her eyes stung. She had wasted so much fucking time, and now all they had was this. This fucking world of pain, and far and few moments of silence to recover before the next nightmare hit.

His breathing was ragged, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or the guilt that was weighing on his chest. She bit down on her tongue hard; trying to keep herself in check, because it wasn’t about her, it was about Dean. Fuck, for once it should be.

Growing up, there were so many moments that Emerson rested on her knees in church, in front of the crucifix and begged. She begged for help, asked for forgiveness, made promises, but it didn’t make a single second of difference. It was pointless, because no one was listening. Every moment that she thought was the worst moment of her life seemed like a joke as she poured rubbing alcohol on Dean’s arm to clean it. He did that to save her, to protect her. He’d always been that way, and she never appreciated it. She never appreciated him.

She applied the burn ointment and secured the bandage on his wound. “Done,” she murmured, standing up immediately. She turned away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, holding everything in. It was too damn much. All of the pain and loss was finally catching up with her. Everyone they knew was dead. The only people that they had was each other, and as he carefully wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair, she thought for the first time that maybe they’d be enough. She collapsed in his arms, his front pressed against her back, and she let out a pained sob, her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. She could feel wetness against the back of her neck as he held her up, his arms trembling.

Her back curved in, her head flopping forward as she screamed out, the pain in her heart overwhelming her entire being.

She tried not to spend her time thinking, before, what life would’ve been like if she’d made different choices, but there, in Dean’s arms, she had to wonder. Would they have always ended up there?

_“This doesn’t last forever,” he commented quietly._

_The song? She knew that, but somehow she didn’t think that was what he meant. “What doesn’t?”_

_“High school.”_

_She nodded against his shoulder. “I know.”_

_“It sucked for me, too.” He laughed breathlessly. “But it really is just a blink and it’s over.”_

_She knew that, but there was comfort in hearing it from someone who lived through it. From someone who wasn’t like Pheli, who often cried at the thought of high school ending._

_“Not everyone is Sam and Ophelia,” Dean commented, as if he could read her mind._

_“That’s the truth.” She pulled away to look at him. “Why aren’t you always like this?”_

_“Like what?”_

_“I don’t know… real?”_

_He shrugged. “When people think you’re one thing, sometimes it’s just easier to live up to it. I’d always rather be underestimated. Then you can surprise them, and you never let anyone down.”_

_Emerson pressed her lips together, she wanted to kiss him. Instead of talking herself out of it and focusing on all of the reasons she shouldn’t, she stood on her tip-toes and placed her lips to his._

She could’ve kissed him, that night, she could’ve done it a hundred times, at the river, on the roof, on the Ferris wheel.

_“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I know we aren’t friends, Dean.”_

_“We aren’t?” He chuckled. “Then what are we, Maklen?”_

_She turned toward him. “Two people. If it weren’t for Sam and Phel we wouldn’t hang out. You know that.”_

_“You don’t think we would?”_

_She pushed her hair behind her ear, and looked up at him. she could see the reflection of the moon in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”_

_“You’re pretty blind, aren’t ya?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I’ve always been lookin’ at ya, Em. I’d be an idiot not to.”_

_Dean looked at her, his eyes focused on her lips, and her heart raced. She didn’t want to say goodbye to him. She didn’t want him to leave, but instead of begging him not to go or saying something snarky, she leaned into him and brushed her lips against his softly._

She wanted so badly to go back and tell him everything that she felt the first time, but more than anything, she wanted things to be different now, and that was impossible. So she said nothing, she just sobbed until there was nothing left.

 

**-35 Days After-**

 

If Dean was being honest, he wasn’t sure when he’d slept last. He wouldn’t let anyone else drive the Jeep, and when they’d pull over to sleep, he would lay down and just stare blankly ahead. He couldn’t get the images out of his mind. They’d haunt him forever, he knew. He put Cas, Benny, Garth, Lisa, and Ben all in the same bag as he’d put Charlie. It was zipped up tightly, and fuck it was getting hard for him to lug around. It didn’t help that Emerson sat right on top. He would never forget the look on her face when she told her story. He was glad that Pheli wasted Gordon, because if she hadn’t, Dean would’ve, except he wouldn’t have been so kind about it.

They’d driven for days, siphoning gas along the way and trying to pilfer for what food they could find, but it was all starting to feel a little hopeless. They were driving aimlessly. Dean had no idea where they were headed or what the plan was all he knew was that he needed to get as far away from Dallas as he possibly could, away from the city and all of the memories that they were leaving behind there.

They were tired, tired of driving, tired of being cramped, and most of all they were tired of being afraid. Everyone was on edge as they drove in silence, every minute ticking by impossibly slow. “Dean,” Pheli whined from the back seat. “I have to pee. Can we stop? I saw a sign for a gas station.”

“You’re like a little kid,” he grumbled, cranky.

“No, I’m a lady, and I’d like to use an actual toilet instead of peeing in a ditch. Don’t like it? Sue me.”

“Fine. I can fill up gas while we’re at it.”

“That’s the spirit!” She exclaimed, just a little too cheery.

Dean pulled the Jeep over at the gas station, and the Maklen sisters made their way to the bathroom on the outside of the building, while Sam and Dean entered the gas station to look for the backup generator.

“Dean?” Sam asked as his brother fiddled with the lock on the office door. He grunted a response, not bothering to look back up at Sam. “Do you have a plan?”

He let out a sigh and the door clicked open. He pushed through, avoiding the question. “Bingo,” he mumbled, walking to the backup generator, firing it up. “Let there be light.”

“I just… Phel wants to know where we’re headed, hell; I want to know where we’re headed. We can’t just keep driving forever…”

Dean walked out of the office and behind the register so he could pump the gas. “Go ahead and grab a few extra gas cans. Then maybe we won’t have to stop as frequently. I don’t like leaving us so exposed.”

“Dean,” Sam said, placing his hand on his brother’s forearm. “Just stop for a second.”  

“I can’t,” he said tightly, between gritted teeth. His heart hammered in his chest, and his vision blurred. He gripped the counter between his fingers to keep himself steady. “I can’t stop moving, Sammy. I can’t risk it.”

He thought about Emerson falling in his arms, cracking down the middle, and busting wide open. It was all too much. He knew how much he could handle, and he passed that line back in Afghanistan. Ever since then, he’d been running on fumes. It was the girls and Sammy that kept him afloat when all he wanted was to crumble. It would be so much easier if he could just turn to dust, but he knew that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let another person that he loved die. It just wasn’t an option.

“I know we keep hoping, well, _I_ keep hoping that things will be different, like maybe if we keep driving that we will eventually hit a place that isn’t this.”

Dean closed his eyes tightly, nodding.

“It isn’t happening. I’m not saying we have to settle somewhere forever, but this is our life, at least for now. Don’t you want to live it? Aren’t you sick of running? What about Emerson? I know it’s glum, dude, but this may be the only chance we have. Maybe we should try to make the best of it.”

Sam’s fucking college attitude was giving Dean a headache. He was always the one with words of wisdom and advice. The worst part, though, was that he knew that Sam was right. That was the real kick in the ass, but how could he do that? How were they supposed to make a life during the end of the world?

“Dean?” Emerson asked, poking her head into the store. Her hair fell effortlessly down her shoulder and over her right eye, and she was smiling, despite everything. “Is everything okay?”

He waited so damn long for her to want him, that he almost forgot that it was a good thing. When he looked at her, he knew exactly how he could make a life in all of the bullshit, because when he was lying in the dirt in Afghanistan, he saw her face. Maybe it wasn’t about where they were, or what was going on outside of their little bubble. Maybe for once they would be enough. He offered her a smile. “Yeah, we’re good. We were just talking about where we should settle down for a while. Get off the road.”

His heart squeezed in his chest as he saw her eyes light up in front of him. “What’d you come up with?”

 

**-40 Days After-**

 

The idea came to the brothers in a moment of clarity, and Dean couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him before.

John Winchester was a sorry son of a bitch, but he was prepared for an apocalypse. They had an old vacation home that he hadn’t been to since the boys were kids. It was secluded, and on the lake. It wasn’t much, but there were two stories of space to give them all the one on one time that they needed. The water was from a well, so they wouldn’t have to worry about contaminated water, and the climate was a lot cooler in the midst of the Summer.

They pulled up the dirt driveway to the cabin. It was old, and looked abandoned. The grass was red and growing upwards, just like everywhere else, but they had a push lawnmower, and Dean was determined to make this place fit for home. 

“Wow,” Emerson said, breathless.

He parked the Jeep and Pheli leaped out of the car. “I call the biggest room!”

“What are you, five?” Sam asked with a laugh. It was good to see him smile.

Dean got out of the Jeep and leaned against the door, looking at the old house. The paint was peeling, but it was still standing strong. The cabin wasn’t what he pictured, when he thought about the kind of home he would settle in. When he asked Lisa to marry him, he thought about something in the suburbs with a two door garage and a man cave. The cabin didn’t exactly have good memories for him, but as Emerson came and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, he thought that maybe they could make new memories that could erase the old ones.

His arms tightened around her. “What do you think?”

“I think,” she began softly, “that it feels really good to just be.”

“It does,” he agreed.

It was peaceful, and maybe before he could’ve left it at that, but he had a growing sick, heavy feeling in his gut that the quiet was a bad omen of danger to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all so much for your patience! I’ve been very busy in the last few weeks getting ready for my flipfest piece that is due next week (keep an eye out for the promo on August 28th on Tumblr!). I love this fic so much, and it’s far from over! Your continual support and comments make my life so happy. Thank you, again!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Alluding to rape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

**-40 Days After-**

 

The cabin needed aired out in a serious way, so the sisters went through and opened all of the windows, coughing from the amount of dust that had settled. Ophelia and Sam intended to stay in a room together on the main floor, giving Emerson and Dean the entire upstairs to themselves. They were in a weird spot, straddling a line, and Em decided that it’d probably be best if they had separate spaces. They were just  _dating_ after  all. There was no immediate danger that required her to be protected into the night, but he still chose the room next to hers, just in case.

“So, what do you think?” Pheli asked her sister as they shook out the blankets on the balcony off of Emerson’s room.

“About what?”

“I don’t know, all of it?”

Emerson leaned up against the railing, staring out at the red-tinted lake. “I don’t know what to think. It all sucks, but this… this could be good. I just don’t feel like it can last.”

“You don’t think we can live off the land?” Pheli teased.

Emerson snorted at her sister, shaking her head. She pushed a blonde curl behind her ear and let out a sigh. “Everything is just so broken. I don’t know how playing house is going to possibly help.”

Pheli took her sisters hand lacing their fingers. “Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll hurt either, and anything that doesn’t hurt can’t be bad.”

Emerson pressed her lips together. She thought that it must be nice to be so sure. When she thought about the possibilities of the house and the life she could have inside of it, it all felt that much more terrifying. There was a possibility of being hurt, and that may be something that she wouldn’t be able to survive. “Maybe,” she said finally, because looking out at the stillness of the water, she wanted so desperately for it to be true.

“I think Sam and I are going to have some much needed one on one time tonight,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “So maybe this would be a good time for you and Dean to have that coveted first date.”

“Stop, that’s _not_ a thing,” she groaned, shooting daggers at her sister. She could feel her cheeks pink up at the concept, and her stomach flipped. The thought of being alone with Dean, truly alone, was still something that was too terrifying for her to really grasp, especially when she was still seeing Gordon in her nightmares.

“It is, and Sam said that we have running water here, so I’d take advantage of a good hair wash if I were you.” Pheli poked her cheek and Emerson bit at her in response. “Hey Fido, relax.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” she laughed dryly. “Relax? I don’t know her.”

“Ha ha,” Pheli deadpanned. “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just don’t understand how you can be so  _okay_ .”

Pheli sighed and let go of her sister’s hand, turning her face out to the lake. She looked solemn, pensive,  _tired_ . “I’m not okay, but if this is our life then I want to live it. It may be the only one we have.”

Emerson stroked a piece of her sister’s hair, biting her tongue to keep her emotions from erupting out of her. “I’m just afraid.”

“Of what?”

“The assault is still on my mind. Trusting is scary, but more than anything I just don’t think I can take losing someone else. I think it’d kill me.”

Pheli brushed Emerson’s cheek with the back of her hand and offered her a small smile. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are, Em. You’d survive. You’ll always survive.”

Ophelia hugged her tightly before taking the blankets back into the cabin, leaving Emerson feeling empty and utterly alone. Even though she knew that Phel meant it in a nice way, she felt cursed from her words, and as if she could see into the future, she could see herself standing on the end of the long dock down at the lake completely and hopelessly alone.

She walked to her bed and pulled out her bag to take inventory of the things that she still had. Her clothes were all dirty, and her boots were worn down. They weren’t made for the physical activity that she’d put them through along with the rain the impossibly hot rain. She pulled out her notebook and held it against her chest. She spent so much time writing to Dean instead of talking to him, knowing that he would never write her back, or read a word of it. It was a copout.

So she sat down on the musty mattress, letting her legs stretch out in front of her, feeling the cool breeze off the lake come in through her open French doors. She picked her pen up and clicked it a few times before opening her notebook and pressing the pen to the page.

_ Dear Dean , _

****

Dean knew that he missed showers. When he was in Afghanistan there’d be periods where he was solely taking a whores bath with a wet cloth and a bucket, so the days that he had any kind of water pressure it was a gift. So even though he stood under the weak, cool water in the cabin, he couldn’t complain. It felt so fucking good to get clean.

He scrubbed his skin with the bar soap, not even bothering to ignore the burns along his skin that caused him to sting and burn. It almost felt good. It reminded him that he was alive. He stood under the water watching the water around his feet turn from brown, and red to clear. He ran his fingers through his hair letting out a sigh into the water.

They were safe, temporarily or not. He thought about letting himself finally cry, let it all fucking go into the water, but then he thought about  _her_ , Emerson Maklen. She was there, down the hall, and she wanted to be with him. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, because they were _safe_ and there was no more reasons for them to not just fucking be together.

He laughed with an exhale, shaking his head. The past didn’t matter, not anymore, the only thing that mattered was right there in that moment. He reached down and turned off the knob, feeling the last droplets of water run down his nose. He grabbed the towel that he set out and quickly dried his hair, face, and chest, before wrapping it around his waist.

He poked his head out into the hallway and when he could determine that it was clear he waltzed to his room. Her bedroom door was shut, he noticed, and he had to admit that he was a little disappointed. He knew that things would be slow, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t curious about her, and he was dying to know if she was curious about him, too.  

Dean pushed into his bedroom, ready to drop his towel and take a nap, when he almost jumped right out of his skin. There was a blonde woman on his bed, and although she resembled Emerson, it was not the Maklen sister that he was hoping to find waiting for him. “Jesus Christ, Ophelia.”

“Get your hand off your towel, Winchester. We don’t want any accidents,” she said, averting her gaze.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and made sure the towel was secure before crossing his arms. “Why are you in my room?”

“Sam and I are having a date night tonight.”

“Good for you?”

“I think this would be a good opportunity for you to have some one on one time with my sister.”

He looked at her, scanning her face, trying to detect what game she was playing. She seemed genuine. “What are you getting at?”

Pheli groaned quietly, standing up. “Listen, Dean. We are all wound up a little tightly, you know? Things aren’t exactly rainbows and unicorns right now, and I think she needs some fun. You’ve always been good at that.”

He winced; feeling like that comment was a little back-handed. His eyes met hers and he let out the breath he was holding. “I don’t want to push her. Not after everything she’s been through.”

“Dean,” Pheli said gently, walking to him. “I’m not going to touch you, since you’re basically naked.” Her eyes flickered from his waist back up to his eyes. “But listen to me anyway.”

He focused on her face, noticing the small differences between her and Emerson. They were the same, but yet so completely different. He nodded, to let her know that he was paying attention.

“I know that you love her.”

He opened his mouth to speak, to disagree, to protest? He wasn’t sure.

“Stop,” she said, holding up her finger to silence him. “Whatever it is, I don’t need to hear it. I know you love her. I can see it, hell; I can feel it when you’re around her. You always have, and I think that’s amazing. She deserves to have someone love her, especially after everything she’s been through. She always has to be so strong, and it’s her turn to lean on someone else. Don’t you think?”

Dean could hear his heartbeat in his years, thrumming angrily at the accusation. He’d never said that out loud, he’d never said it to himself, but yet Ophelia said it like it was something so obvious, so  true . It almost knocked the breath out of his body, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and pass out.

It wasn’t like it was a surprise, really, because he knew his fate the night that he danced with Emerson. Holding her closely, even that young, he could see his whole damn future laid out in front of him. He just never allowed himself to want it, not really, or at least not outwardly. Why waste time wanting something that you can never have? The question still lingered in the back of his mind as he stared down at Ophelia; because all she did was state what she saw him feel. He still had no idea how Emerson felt.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah I do.”

“Then just do something with her tonight. Make her smile. That’s all I’m asking for.” Pheli smiled at him, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Now get dressed,” she added, awkwardly. “I’m going to go check on Sam.”

Dean watched her go and pressed the door shut behind him. The word _love_ spun around inside of his head like a tornado. He felt like, now that it was said out loud, that it would be almost impossible for him to hold it inside of himself. He sat on the bed and put his face in his hands.

Lisa was dead. Ben was dead. Cas was dead. His mom was probably dead. Charlie was dead. How could he be a support for Em when he could barely support himself? How could he be there for her when everyone he tries to be there for dies…?

It was the same thought, the same doubt that’d been creeping into his mind his entire life.  You’re not good enough _._ The sound of his father _,_ you’re no son of mine .

But ultimately he knew the truth. They were just words. It didn’t matter if he was good enough, or if he deserved her, because if she wanted him there, that’s where he would be. He was selfish, and she made him want to be a better man. The least he could do was plan something nice for her, for  them .

_Later that night_

Three taps against the glass of the French doors leading out to the balcony was all it took to pull Emerson out of her sleep. She didn’t realize when she’d stopped writing, her notebook resting on her chest. She squinted into the sunset that bled into her window, catching Dean’s outline. He leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, Maklen.”

“Dean?” She croaked her throat dry from sleep. She didn’t remember the last time that she’d fallen asleep by mistake. She hadn’t felt safe enough to in months.

“Sorry for waking you.”

 

She sat up slowly rubbing her eyes, her eyes adjusting. He looked handsome, he was smiling, wearing a plain t-shirt with a flannel over it, and his fingers held a single flower. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded. “It’s good. Do you wanna go for a walk with me?”

She blinked a few times, wondering if she should pinch herself. It felt good, a little too good. She didn’t trust it. “What’s that?” She gestured to the flower, scooting to the end of the bed.

“Oh,” he said, peeling his eyes away from her and to the flower in his hand. “It was growing outside. I saw it and… I don’t know, it was pretty, and it reminded me of you.” He held it out to her.

She reached out, standing up, and took it from him. It looked like a rose, or something that used to be a rose. The stem was long and a deep red, the stem seemed to curl up and around the head of the rose. The petals seemed to glisten in the light of the setting sun. She pressed the rose to her nose, breathing it in. there was something sweet about it, intoxicating like a red wine. She could see him, in her mind’s eye, standing at the bottom of her staircase with a cigarette in his teeth holding a red rose. She didn’t want to want him, but she went to homecoming with him anyway. She didn’t know why she always drug her feet with him when she knew that no matter what he asked her the answer would always be yes.

“Where are we walking?”

“Trust me?” He asked, reaching his hand out to her, palm up.

Emerson examined his palm for a moment, the lines on it, and the safety that he was offering. Her eyes flickered back to the notebook on her bed, and she sucked in her breath, placing her hand in his.

His fingers curled around hers protectively, and he gave this wide grin like he was really proud of himself, and as much as Emerson wanted to be annoyed, she slid her fingers into his, locking them together. She was too damn rested, and the scent of the rose was still stuck in her nose, so she couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed.

They snuck out of the house through the side door, trying not to disturb Sam and Pheli. The night was cool for mid-August, the first taste of autumn on the horizon. They walked down a stone path in comfortable silence, their joined hands swinging between them. There were things between them, buzzing, but they’d never spoken about them up until that point.

“It’s a nice night,” Dean said awkwardly.

They were making their way to the lake as the sun was replaced by the moon high in the sky. Emerson took a step onto the dock, feeling the gentle bob of it on the water. It felt peaceful, quiet, and hopeful for once since everything had happened. “It actually is,” she agreed, squeezing his hand. Ever since her attack, the quiet felt like something dangerous, like it was something that was a risk, something that she couldn’t trust, but that moment on the dock with Dean felt like something different altogether. “Thank you.” 

 

“For what?”

 

“For bringing us here.” Emerson turned to look at him, stopping at the end of the dock. “I _slept_ today, and I have no idea when my last good night of sleep was. I have no idea.” 

 

Dean reached forward, pushing a hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I’m glad. You deserve some rest.” 

 

“So do you.” 

 

“I think we all do. Shit has been so hard. Felt like it’d never let up.” 

 

“I’m still not sure it has.” She glanced down at their joined hands. “I just feel like there was never a right time for us, and now... it still isn’t the right time, not with the world collapsing and me being... well pretty fucking broken.” She swallowed hard, closing her eyes to stop the stinging behind them. “But this may be all that we have. It may be our only chance... it may...” 

 

And then Emerson was being kissed. His lips were warm, a gentle brush, with his finger under her chin tilting it up. She sighed into his lips, a tear rolling down her cheek. She pulled up their joined hands, pressing them to her chest above her heart as if it would leap out of her chest and take a nose dive into the red-tinted water. 

 

“You still want me?” He asked her breathlessly, his forehead against hers. 

 

She opened her mouth to form a word, any word, but instead she just nodded.  _Yes_ . Who was she fucking kidding? It was always Dean. 

 

“Good,” he murmured, and she thought that he would kiss her again, but he didn’t. Dean Winchester wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, his lips puckering against her scalp. His fingers petted through her tangled curls, as she pressed her face to the crook of his neck, even though it required her to stand on her tip-toes. 

 

He smelled like pine and mint and for a moment she thought that she may cry, that she may fucking lose it right there in his arms, because he felt like home. Everything had felt so harmful and dangerous for months, but in that moment she wasn’t afraid she was just with him. It could’ve been just her and Dean in the world and that may have been okay. For just a second, for a breath, she thought that maybe it could be enough. Maybe they could be enough.

 

She could feel his face turn back up, and he sucked in his breath, the rush of air against her hair. His grip loosened on her as quickly as he’d taken her against him, but he didn’t stop holding onto her. He took her and gently spun her around so she was facing the lake. “Look,” he whispered.

 

Her eyes adjusted to the dark lake to find that the sky had been dumped out onto the lake. It looked like God had taken the stars, put them in a jar, and shook them out over the water. Hundreds of fireflies danced over the water, blinking. The sky, moon, and blinking lights reflected in the glassy lake water. It felt like they were between worlds. 

 

Emerson reached out her hand and quickly pulled it back into herself as the white lights on the fireflies blinked out and back on in an array of colors. The stars changed to Christmas lights. Dean ran his fingers down her arm and wrapped his finders around her hand, extending their hands back out. “It’s okay,” he whispered. 

 

He turned her palm so it was laying flat toward the sky, out past the edge of the dock. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, to the glow of the bugs in front of her. She found herself holding her breath, her chest aching, as one of the glowing balls floated closer to her, pulsing in fantastic shades of blues and pinks. As it landed on her fingertip she saw that it wasn’t a firefly at all, it was a butterfly. It seemed to settle on her fingertip, and she pulled it up closer to examine it. 

 

The patterns in its wings swirled and glowed. It all felt like such a small canvas to hold something so magical, and she suddenly had the extreme urge to cry. She let out the breath she’d been holding, out in a shaking hard exhale. The butterfly took the hint, letting the breath send it back out toward the water. She grabbed for it instinctively, but watched as it barely missed her fingers. 

 

Her fingers moved back to her lips, brushing them gently in complete awe. They hadn’t had the chance, up until that moment, to see anything positive from the explosion. It was all darkness, blood, pain... but this was something else altogether. It felt like hope. Emerson turned to look at him, to thank him for bringing her, to see if he knew about the butterflies, but when she saw his face she stopped. She looked up at him, his features illuminated from the hundreds of dancing colored lights. She could see herself in his eyes, and he was looking at her like she had an answer to his greatest question. His lips were parted, his eyes wide, like someone who is trying desperately to keep themselves from something that they want. He looked fucking beautiful. More than anything, though, he was looking at her like how Sam looks at Ophelia. He was looking at her like he loved her.

 

She reached her hand up and brushed his cheekbone, before settling her palm against the back of his head. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. It was slow, solid, and she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, eliciting a deep groan from inside of him. She kissed along his rough jaw and to his ear. “Dean, take me upstairs.”

 

Dean pulled back from her and took her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

 

She nodded slowly. “I want to be with you.”

 

He examined her face for a moment before reaching down and scooping her up bridal style, capturing his lips in hers. He only pulled his mouth away from hers to get the door and his footing on the stairs, no longer seeming to care if Pheli and Sam were disturbed. They weren’t the only one who deserved a night. He pushed her door open with a creak and lowered her to her feet, his hands moving back to her cheeks, stroking her cheekbones, then her jaw, neck, shoulders. 

 

Deans fingers were gentle, tickling against her ribcage as his hands settled at her hips. He kissed her again, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. “Wait,” she whispered against his kiss. 

 

He pulled back and looked down at her. Emerson backed away from him, letting his hands fall, and she shrugged off her flannel. Her fingers trembled as she took the hem of her tank top in her hands and rolled it over her head. Dean sucked in his breath, looking flushed, his eyes scanning her face, moving along her bare skin, but he didn’t move any closer. 

 

Emerson felt her cheeks heating up so she gestured lamely to his shirt and gave him a nod. “Your turn.”

 

“Right,” he said with a breathless laugh, shrugging out of his own flannel before pulling his t-shirt off. 

 

She’d seen him shirtless before, but she’d forgotten. He looked strong, and even amongst the scars from his accident, and the current scars that were healing, he still had perfect skin that was adorned with freckles. The skin on his chest was pulled tight over thesoftening muscles from his military days. She reached forward, brushing her fingers over the necklace that still hung on a chain around his neck. Next to his dog tags from serving hung the necklace that Sam gave him when they were kids. He still wore it. Dean Winchester was loyal. Looking at him, she knew suddenly that she always loved him, and she always would. 

 

His hands found her hips again and slowly lowered her to a seated position on the edge of the bed. He knelt in front of her, placing a kiss on her leg before taking her foot in his hands. He carefully unlaced her boot, drawing out each movement, taking care. He placed the boot to the side and took off the other. 

 

She spent so much time thinking that he was bad, dangerous, the  _wrong choice_ ,  but she never imagined this. The care that he took, the glances of permission, somehow it was so much more painful than the alternative.

 

He moved back up to a standing position, now just crouching over her to place a kiss on her lips. She could feel him working his way out of his own boots as his lips pressed against hers with a newfound pressure. It was needy and warm. It was a thousand glowing butterflies over a glass top lake. It was hope. 

 

But even as she felt the warmth as his tongue brushed hers, her heart beat angrily like a drum on the battlefield. His fingers ran down her spine, hovering at the clasp on her bra, and her breath hitched in her throat. She felt herself freeze in his arms like a statue, the hair on the back of her neck standing straight up. 

 

“Emerson?” Dean asked quietly, pulling back from the kiss. His eyes bore into hers. “Hey,” he said softly, touching her chin. “Talk me to me.” 

 

She swallowed hard, trying to choke back everything that was threatening to spill out of her, but it wasn’t that easy, it never could be that easy. Even though she didn’t want to, and even though it was impossibly hard, she looked at him. 

 

“You’re not ready,” Dean commented. “That’s it, right?”

 

She didn’t want it to be, but she nodded. “I thought I was... I want... I just don’t think I can... I’m sorry, Dean... I’m so...”

 

“Hey, you don’t have to explain it. I don’t want to do this if you aren’t ready.”

 

“Really? Are you sure?”

 

He ran his thumb along her jaw. “This isn’t about sex. It’s so much more than that, Em. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

 

Emerson felt a rush of emotion, and as he leaned down to pick up his shirt she stopped him. “Maybe we can just... sleep?”

 

He glanced at her fingers on his bicep and smiled at her. “I’d like that.” 

 

She wiggled out of her jeans and picked up his t-shirt, sliding it over her head. She smiled at him, before climbing into bed. She’d been undressed in front of him before, and she knew that he was respectful and kind.

 

The bed groaned under his weight as he got under the blankets next to her, but he didn’t touch her. She rolled onto her side to look at him. They were both facing each other, close enough to lean forward and press their lips together, but they stayed where they were. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

“For what? You’re being really understanding...”

 

“Because I didn’t protect you from him.” His voice was pained, and she caught his eyes welling up even in the darkness. “I won’t make that same mistake twice. You’re safe now, Em. No matter what it takes, I will keep you safe.”

 

She didn’t know what to say, so she buried her head in his bare chest, breathing him in, and listening to the steady beat of his heart, trying with all that she had to believe him. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

**-98 Days After-**

 

Two months at the cabin had been blissful. The Winchester’s and the Maklen’s had quickly and effortlessly fallen into a routine. It didn’t feel like the end, not anymore. Emerson felt like it had actually started to feel like home. 

 

The leaves had changed and autumn was in full swing. There hadn’t been any more incidents with the rain, and they hadn’t seen more than a stray Rogue in weeks. The guys would sometimes leave for a day or two to go find supplies, but they mostly lived sufficiently on their own. They’d started a little garden with seeds that Sam brought back from town, and Dean had kept the weeds and grass cut low. There was a newly constructed, mismatched fence surrounding their little paradise to keep danger out. 

 

There hadn’t been a night that Emerson and Dean hadn’t wound up sleeping side by side, even if half of the time Emerson snuck out of bed and walked down to the edge of the dock and sat, staring at the reflection of the sky in the water. Dean was keeping his respectable distance, trying with everything that he had not to push her boundaries. 

 

In the wake of the new life that they’d all created with each other, they found themselves easily getting into a comfortable swing, like the sway of the recently hung swing under the large Dogwood tree. The flowers had plumed a blood red, like the rest of the world, making it unremarkable in comparison to its usual draw. 

 

Pheli had found a few cans of potato soup in the back pantry and insisted on cooking it all by herself. She was going to make the first real Autumn meal. This left Emerson to sit on the end of the dock with her knees against her chest, staring out at the water like she did most days. 

 

She thought about the day that they said goodbye to their mother. They wrote her letters, and Sam folded them into small paper boats. Emerson set the paper on fire with Dean’s lighter and sent them out onto the lake. She couldn’t say goodbye then, she couldn’t cry, but more than anything she couldn’t admit that the letter wasn’t for her mother at all. It was for herself. 

 

She closed her eyes and felt the cool breeze off the water, not bothering to wipe the stray tear that rolled down her cheek. Somehow, in the ease of life, the weight that pressed down on Emerson’s shoulders felt so much heavier than it ever had before. It was heavy on her chest so she couldn’t breathe, she’d lost her appetite, and she could hardly sleep. That was no real surprise, though, sleep had begun to feel like a luxury that she couldn’t afford. 

 

It was like she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, like she was being watched. She’d tried to explain it to Dean in the darkness when his nose was pressed to hers, but every time she opened her mouth, it was like Gordon’s palm was pressing against her lips to keep her silent. She just hoped that Dean understood that it wasn’t about him, that the cracks in her soul weren’t something made by him, but they also weren’t something that he could mend. 

 

**-9 Years Before-**

 

Emerson watched the flames of everything her father left behind burning in the fire pit in their backyard. They licked up toward the night sky, the smoke blowing up, black even against the night sky, carrying glowing pieces of ash up to Heaven. She was sure that her mother didn’t intend to share an entire bottle of red wine with her two fourteen year old daughters, but there she was, sitting in the darkness, watching the fire burn down, her mind fuzzy and her tongue heavy. Ophelia had fallen asleep with her head on their mothers lap, Jana petting her hair, whispering quiet promises. She took Pheli inside, admitting that she was tired as well. 

 

Emerson offered a brave smile and promised her mother that she would put the fire out and come to bed soon. What else could she say? She watched her father’s clothes burn. His favorite striped tie, the comb he used to tame his thick mustache, and the last newspaper he ever read. She’d never forget curling up on the porch swing, taking in the scent of his strong morning coffee as he read the paper out loud to her. _“You see Emmy, this man saved a little girl from a fire. He’s a hero, don’t you think?”_ Who would save her father from the fire? 

 

She didn’t know why he left, just that she woke up, and he was gone. She’d never seen her mother cry before, but right in front of her eyes Jana’s knees gave out, and she crumpled to the floor like she was made of paper. She felt sick to her stomach, but immediately reacted. _“It’s okay, Mom. We don’t need him. We have each other.”_ They burned the wall piece that said _The Wilson’s_ and angrily cut him out of every family photograph. They didn’t belong to him any more than he belonged to them, and even though it didn’t look like it, Emerson felt that loss to her core. 

 

Dean was seventeen years old, eighteen on his coming birthday. He was sneaking into the backdoor of his house when something caught his attention. His green eyes popped up over their shared fence, they glowed in the light of the fire. “Got any s’mores?” 

 

“No,” Emerson grunted in annoyance. 

 

“Damn, sorry for asking.” 

 

“They’re always sorry aren’t they,” she slurred, her tongue still heavy with wine. 

 

Her eyes were focused on Dean, well as focused as they could be. She caught his eyebrows coming together in a frown. “You okay? You sound a little…” 

 

“Drunk? Yup. I’m _great_.” She turned her head away from him and focused back to the fire. She was pissed at the world, at men, and she just wanted to let herself cry, but she couldn’t. She’d crowned herself the strong one before she even had a chance to process what had happened. 

 

There was a groan from the fence before the sound of Dean’s feet hitting the grass with a soft _thud_. He walked to her, lowering himself down next to her. “You’re drunk? You’re just a kid.” 

 

“Fuck you,” she snapped, resting her chin on her knees. “I’ve never been a kid.” 

 

Dean was quiet at her side, and for a second she thought he’d left. “I shouldn’t judge,” he said after a breath of silence, and her eyes flickered to him. “I’m not exactly a good role model.” He snickered into the darkness, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He stuck one between his lips, but didn’t light it. He stared at the fire with a desperate look of longing. “What’s with the clothes? You commit a murder or something?”

 

She pursed her lips, turning back to the fire. “Or something.” 

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

“No.” 

 

Emerson’s eyes focused on the stacked items inside of the flames disappear into each other, collapse into dust. Once everything had burned away would it be like he never existed in the first place? The concept made her chest ache. 

 

Dean sat next to her like a silent pillar for minutes. It felt like he was building protective walls around her, brick by brick. The more safe she felt with him, though, the more distrustful she felt. Her father had been there for fourteen years, and he still up and left one day. Dean looked at her like a kid, so why would he be of any significance to her? What reason would he have for staying? _None. You aren’t worth staying for._

 

She turned back to him, catching him looking at her. To her surprise, his eyes didn’t waiver when she met his stare. “Why are you here?” 

 

He opened his mouth, but hesitated for a moment. He cleared his throat and put on a smartass smile that made Emerson want to reach out and punch him in the nose like she’d done six years previously. “I was out on a date with Stacy McGilvery, but I’m grounded. I was trying to sneak back in. The date went good, but I don’t know, she’s not really my type.” 

 

Emerson frowned, her nose crinkling. “Stacy McGilvery… isn’t she a cheerleader?” 

 

“Prom Queen last year.” 

 

“So she’s pretty and popular, why not your type?” _More importantly, why do I care?_

 

“Not much under the surface.” 

 

“No boobs?” 

 

Dean looked at her surprised, letting out a laugh. “What? You’re seriously asking me that?” 

 

“I don’t know what else you could be meaning,” she said, her tongue pressed to the inside of her teeth. 

 

 _“Personality,_ kid. That’s what I mean. She’s got no substance.” 

 

“Didn’t think guys like you cared about substance.” 

 

“Ouch,” he said with a wince, touching his chest. “And I didn’t think girls like you got wasted on Saturday night. Guess we were both wrong.” 

 

 _Touché._ “I don’t, normally.” 

 

“So why now?”

 

Maybe it was the wine pulsing through her veins, or perhaps it was the weight of him next to her drawing her in like an orbit, but she wanted to tell him. She wanted to say it out loud and let it go. “My dad left today.”

 

“Where’d he go?”

 

“No idea.”

 

Dean was quiet, pensive, but it didn’t last long. “Wait… you’re saying he…?”

 

She nodded, pressing her chin back to her knees. 

 

“Wow. _Wow._ You didn’t know? Did he say where he was going?”

 

“I woke up, and he was gone.”

 

A new smoke invaded Emerson’s nose, making her eyes water. Dean had lit up his cigarette after all. 

 

“Motherfucker,” he mumbled into the cigarette. “What kind of man…” Dean’s voice trailed off into the darkness in a puff of smoke. “Are you okay?” He asked finally. 

 

“I feel like he took a piece of me with him. It’s like every person we interact with gets a small piece of us. They break it off, and when they leave they take it with them. Usually we don’t notice, but if someone is important… then that piece leaves a much bigger hole. I feel hollow.”

 

“He isn’t worth it.”

 

“How can you say that? You don’t know him,” she snapped, pain radiating through her.

 

“If he walked out on you, then he isn’t worth it. He’s an idiot. Anyone who would willingly walk away from you isn’t worth the time that you’d spend missing them,” Dean said seriously. 

 

She turned to look at him and was caught off guard by the intensity of his stare, by the smoke leaving his lips as if his mouth was full of fire. She could feel herself burning within him, crumbling into dust under his tongue like her father's life was in front of her. 

 

**-98 Days After-**

 

People are made up of moments, she decided. Every decision, every piece that’s broken off of them created a single person that was completely unique. She knew if her heart was held up next to her sisters that it wouldn’t be recognizable. It had to be so full of holes and broken pieces that she knew if it was held up to the sun that she could see the sun rays breaking through it, speckled and fantastic, casting shadows on the ground. It had started to break long before Gordon. She was built of moments, stacked together like Lincoln logs, up far too high that it shouldn’t have been a surprise that she was unsteady. That she wobbled and eventually crashed to the ground. 

 

The dock groaned behind her under a weight that she now recognized as Dean’s. “Thought I might find you here,” he said gently, draping a blanket over her shoulders. “Can I sit?”

 

“Yeah,” Emerson breathed, exhaling warm white mist into the chilled, autumn air. 

 

He lowered himself next to her and slid his arm around her, creating a protective belt of strength to hold her together. “I brought you something,” he said softly, tugging at the ends of one of her curls against her back. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

Dean reached into his coat and pulled out a KitKat bar and offered it to her, his palm flat. 

 

“You got me candy?” She asked, her eyebrow quirked. 

 

“I found it out of place at the supermarket. It’s your favorite, right?” 

 

Emerson’s eyes scanned the candy and up his arm to his eyes. “It is. How did you know that?” 

 

Dean smiled sheepishly. “I remember when we were kids, after Halloween, you and Phel would sit on the porch trading candy. You’d trade anything for those damn KitKat’s.” 

 

She pressed her lips together and felt a tug in her chest. “I can’t believe you remember that.” 

 

“I remember everything about you, Em.” 

 

“Not everything,” she admitted softly. 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

She sucked in her breath through her nose. She wasn’t sure why she was bringing it up. It wouldn’t _change_ anything. If anything it would just give him ammunition to take another piece of her, but she needed to release the weight that held her down. “I was there, after your accident. I was there every day for weeks. Your heart stopped right under my cheek.”

 

“Wait… what? You were there?”

 

She nodded, avoiding his eyes. 

 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?” 

 

“You didn’t want to have any visitors. You kept everyone away. I thought that you didn’t want me there. It just felt like maybe I’d been making it all up.” 

 

“Making what up?” 

 

“This thing between us.” 

 

She felt his finger hook under her chin, tilting her head to look at him. “I had this dream, well fuck I thought it was a dream, and when I woke up I couldn’t shake it. It was more of a feeling I guess.”

 

“What was it?” 

 

“I thought… fuck, it’s hard to explain.” He let out an irritated sigh, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts “It was you. It was just your face and when I saw you… I just felt so warm. It was right, Em. It’s like I knew that I couldn’t live without you. I didn’t want to.” She could feel his breath on her lips as they were separated by a short distance. “You didn’t make it up, Em. This thing between us is real. Fuck it may be the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. You’re it, Em.” 

 

She took the candy bar from him like it was a goddamn engagement ring, like it was precious, and she laid it down on the dock gently before running her fingers along his jaw. She wanted to count every freckle that danced along the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. She wanted to kiss the one right at the place that his skin met his bottom lip. Every fleck of gold in his eyes seemed to glow in the low light, like the sun breaking through the trees, speckled across the ground. 

 

She wondered then if some people were made of glue, because every second that she thought she was too broken to continue, Dean slid into the cracks inside of her that threatened to break her in two and held on tightly, holding her together even just for a minute. 

 

There was something between them that didn’t have a name, something bigger than love, something that reached out past the bones in her chest, and deeper than the reaches of her blood. His soul touched hers, brushing it until it glowed brightly. As broken as she felt, there was something about the way he looked at her that made everything feel so much more stable. 

 

“What’s that look for?” He asked her softly, as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip tenderly. 

 

“What look?” She asked, her voice a whisper in the breeze. 

 

“This one.” His fingers were tracing her features then, his thumb across her jaw, her earlobe, and knitting into her hair. 

 

“I’m just wondering how I didn’t see you before. You’ve been here the whole time.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But you weren’t ready. It’s okay to not be ready.”

 

What did _ready_ really mean? 

 

She thought about when her father taught her how to ride her bike. _Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let go!_ She didn’t think she was ready. She was wrong. 

 

Her eyes flickered back up to his. Her lips parted, and she was ready to tell him everything. He was _Dean,_ after all. 

 

“Hey lovebirds! The soup is ready! Get your butts up here!” Pheli yelled from the back porch, her hand on her hip. She shook her wooden spoon in the air like some housewife, beckoning them. 

 

Dean exhaled swiftly and pressed a kiss to her forehead, making her heart race. “Let’s table this, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed, even though all she wanted to do in that moment was drown in him. 

 

Emerson took his hand and let him lead her up to the house. Pheli had already went back inside by the time that they reached the back porch. Dean reached for the doorknob, and she placed her fingers over his, stopping him. He turned to look at her, and she captured his lips in an urgent, breath-stealing kiss. 

 

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip; his were eyes wide like he was surprised. “Can’t kiss a guy like that and expect him to think about soup, Maklen,” he said with a rough voice.

 

She grinned up at him and offered a wink. “That’s what I was hoping for.”

 

“Evil, evil girl.” He shook his head disapprovingly, with a smile that he was trying to hide.

 

He opened the door wide, and she ducked under his arm to enter the house.

 

The handmade oak table was Sam and Dean’s grandfather’s, it had been built by a tree that he cut down himself, sanded down by hand, and glossed over with a shiny finish. The shape was irregular, like the thickness of the tree trunk, and the rings of age were visible through the sheen. Pheli placed a vase with the remaining last few mutant roses from the bush out back. The vase was surrounded by a random assortment of candles, which flames flickered, creating a peaceful glow against the white china bowls.

 

“It smells great,” Dean mused, eyeing Sam.

 

“It was just from a can,” Phel said self-consciously, as she sat down in her own chair.

 

“Looks amazing, babe,” Sam promised, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

 

Emerson discarded her blanket on the couch, and walked to the table. She ran her fingers along the back of her chair before lowering herself into it. Dean sat next to her, instead of his usual place across from her at the table. His fingers brushed her knee under the table making her sit up a little straighter. She picked up her spoon, spinning it in her fingers. Her eyes locked with her sisters. Something was up. She could feel it like a static in the air. She could almost reach out and touch it.

 

The girls were in no way psychic, but there was something special about having a twin that was completely unique. Most of the time, the girls knew what the other was thinking with a single look. They were usually so in sync, but ever since the Pheli killed Gordon, it was like a wall was put up between them. Emerson had no idea what her sister was thinking. She still didn’t, as she looked at her across the table, but she wanted to know. There was something there, she just couldn’t identify it.

 

Dean slurped at his soup next to her in a way that was so obnoxious it was almost laughable. He was such a child. She shot him a look and he shrugged at her mid bite, with his spoon against his lips. She grinned widely at him and put her own spoon in her soup.

 

She wondered if maybe growing up required distance. Pheli knew her better than anyone, but she always had Sam. Ultimately, he knew her in a way that Emerson never could. Maybe growing up meant loosening the leash she had on her sister to make room for someone else.

 

Dean was humming into his soup, picking up the bowl and finishing it off. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a satisfied, happy sigh. “Damn that was delicious.”

 

“Damn, big hungry,” Emerson complained.

 

He grabbed his spoon, stealing a bite from her bowl playfully. He slid the spoon into his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

“Hey!” 

 

He tried to put his spoon back in, but she stopped it with her own. “Back off, Dean Winchester or you may lose a finger,” Emerson threatened, narrowing her eyes. 

 

Ophelia cleared her throat, causing Emerson to stop clinking spoons with Dean and look up. Her sisters hands were intertwined with Sam’s and they were looking at her and Dean intensely. Em’s gut twisted as she stared at her twin. Something was up, she was sure of it. 

 

“Sam and I want to tell you something,” she began. “Both of you.” 

 

“Sammy?” Dean questioned, his eyebrow quirked up. His spoon was left in Emerson’s soup as his hand moved away. His palms were flat on the table. 

 

Emerson felt like they were both waiting for an impact as if they were standing on the train tracks, staring into the light of an oncoming train. 

 

Pheli took in a deep breath, before pulling her hand from Sam’s and thrusting it across the table. A glistening stone caught the light of the candles, sparkling golden in the lowlight. Emerson’s mouth went immediately dry as if she’d just been told something horrible. She stared at her sisters left hand. An _engagement ring?_ It all seemed so _normal._

 

“You son of a bitch!” Dean shouted. 

 

Emerson jumped, turning to Dean, but what she saw was unexpected. He stood up, his palms still flat on the table. His lips were turned up in a bright smile, and his eyes were filled with tears. “You finally did it.” 

 

“I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket for a year,” Sam said, with a bright smile. He was looking at Pheli like he always had, with this proud look of adoration, like he couldn’t get enough. “And I figured that there was no point in waiting. Not anymore. She’s the good in the world and from what I’ve seen in the last two months has shown me that we need as much good as we can get. Our time is limited, and I don’t want to waste any more of it not being with her.” 

 

Dean’s hands left the table, as he approached Sam, pulling him into a brotherly hug. He was mumbling something against Sam’s ear that Emerson couldn’t hear. Her eyes were locked back on the stone. 

 

“Em?” Pheli asked, her voice shaking. 

 

The sound of her name pulled her out of her trance, and she finally met her sister’s eyes. They were a perfect reflection of her own. “Yeah?”

 

“What are you thinking?” 

 

“I’m thinking…” Emerson ran her tongue over her bottom lip, thinking about what Sam said. They always treated life like it was a given, when in reality it’s never been. She thought about the glowing butterflies, and Dean’s fingers brushing against hers. “It’s about damn time.” She took her sisters hand in hers. “It’s beautiful.” 

 

Ophelia immediately broke into a relieved cry, wiping her cheeks. “I’m so glad. I love it.” 

 

Sam put his hand on Pheli’s shoulder. “Dean, we were going to ask you if you’d marry us?”

 

“I’m not into you like that, Sam,” Dean teased. “But I’ll say some stuff, if you want.” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes and made a face, curling his lip up in annoyance. 

 

“When?” Emerson asked, her stomach clenching at the idea of a wedding. On one hand it seemed so trivial in light of the world, but on the other it seemed like the exact kind of thing that they needed. 

 

“A week,” Pheli said, squeezing her sisters hand. “I want to go into town and see if I can find _something_ to wear. Maybe dress the place up a bit.” She gestured widely out to the back of the house. “And I want to stay in your room all week, so Sam and I can have a chance to miss each other.” Her nose wrinkled as she looked up at Sam, he leaned down and kissed her nose. 

 

Dean grunted at Emerson’s side, and she shot him a look that said, _this is so not the time_. He shrugged in response. 

 

“Of course, whatever you want,” Em said with a nod. 

 

“We’re getting married,” Phel said in a rush of air. 

 

“Yes we are.” 

 

Emerson’s eyes locked with Dean’s. “I’m going to do the dishes.” 

 

“I’ll move my stuff up to your room,” Phel said, standing up. 

 

“I’ll help,” Sam said mischievously. 

 

“Don’t even think about it, Winchester. You haven’t made an honest woman out of me yet.” 

 

“I’m banking on that,” he snickered, chasing after her to their room. 

 

Emerson grabbed a few dishes and turned on her heels to start the dishes. She made it to the sink and turned the water on at the sink. It wasn’t a moment later that she felt two arms snake around her waist and lips against the back of her neck. _Dean_. 

 

“A wedding,” he sighed against her neck. 

 

“A wedding,” she repeated.

 

“That’s the last thing I thought would happen out here.” 

 

“They’re insane.” 

 

“I don’t know.” Dean kissed her skin again, swaying gently back and forth. “I think Sam’s got the right idea.” 

 

“Yeah?” She asked, letting the water run over the bowl, overflowing into the sink. Her mind wasn’t on her pruning fingers, the bowl, or the water. She couldn’t escape from the sway of his body against hers and the inevitable weight that a wedding brought. 

 

“No real reason not to be with the person you wanna be with. The wedding is symbolic, it’s not like anyone is going to take an apocalyptic marriage seriously if we ever get out of this, but if it makes them feel better then I don’t see a problem. Fuck, I get the sentiment.” 

 

Emerson always felt like marriages were supposed to mean _forever,_ but she supposed that humans were more likely to be able to commit to that _forever_ if their time was so limited. “You’re right,” she said with an exhale. She sat the bowl down, wrapping her arms around his, brushing her wet fingers against his. She closed her eyes and swayed with him. “Maybe it’ll be nice.” 

 

“You’re gonna be there?” 

 

“Yes?” She asked with a laugh, as if it were a trick question.

 

“Then it’ll be more than nice.” He hummed against her hair. “Maybe we can find some liquor and dance out there on the dock.” 

 

“Promise?” She asked, spinning around, wrapping her arms around his neck. She stared into his green eyes, trying to pull his soul into her body, and wrap him around her as tightly as she could. 

 

“Anything you want, Em. I’ll give it to ya,” he leaned in and kissed her. The water still ran in the sink behind her in a moment that was so painfully and beautifully normal that it made her vision blur at the edges and her stomach ache.

 

 _This is how it could’ve been_ , she thought sadly, before correcting herself. _No, this is how it is._ Her life with Dean wasn’t a consolation prize just because the world was crumbling around them. He came to see her the day the girls came home, the day that seemed like a lifetime ago. She wanted to ask him why he’d come by, because it certainly wasn’t to invite her to a party. She had to believe that whether the explosion happened or not, that they’d always end up right there. Just as she thought that she’d pull away and ask him, he depended the kiss, pressing her against the sinks edge, and she resolved to enjoy him instead. She spent too much time in her head, worrying and thinking about the next thing, or what _could’ve_ been instead of what was happening in the moment. 

 

The moment was Dean, and if people were made of moments, then maybe Dean and her were made of each other. Maybe they’d always been that way. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.” – Jane Austen

**-106 Days After-**

 

“I used to think that love was complicated.” 

 

The aisle was sprinkled with fallen leaves, lined by the candles from inside that burned brightly, the wax bleeding and melting into the crimson blades of grass. 

 

Pheli looked at Sam like he was the only other person in the world, because, to her, he was. 

 

“I didn’t think it was  _ real _ . I always thought it was playing pretend. It was just another game, another mask that people put on to seem like their life is worth somethin’. I thought love was just a word.”

 

Sam smiled back at her, stroking the back of her fingers with his own. His cheeks were pink, and his long hair caught the breeze, sweeping across his forehead. 

 

“But I was wrong. Love is a person. Love is _everything_.”

  
  


**-104 Days After-**

 

Sometimes all it took was a single look to know all that is needed to know about another person. The week that Ophelia had been staying in Emerson’s bed had resulted in Dean and Emerson communicating only by looks. There was a tension building up between them that could be cut with a knife, and she was dying to cut into it. 

 

The girls were going into town; they had the Jeep packed for the day and their guns loaded. There hadn’t been an incident since before they arrived. The town appeared to be abandoned, so the brother’s weren’t as worried as they usually were for the girls to be alone. Emerson was leaning against the drivers-side door as her sister and Sam sucked face in her peripheral vision. 

 

Dean walked to her with his hands in his pockets, he looked at her sheepishly. “Need something, Winchester?” Emerson asked with pursed lips, trying to hide a growing smirk.

 

“Yeah, I do,” he said, putting his hands on her hips. 

 

“How can I help you?” 

 

“Be safe,” Dean whispered, closing the space between them with a kiss. 

 

It was weird, how things had changed. Emerson’s eyes flickered up to Deans, her eyelids heavy from the kiss.  The world felt as if it was full of possibilities, and her heart squeezed at the implications. There were so many imperfect moments that lead up to the moment they were in, where they stood together, but none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was Dean. 

 

“I will be.”

 

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled a sharp laugh through his nose. “Better be. Can’t lose you, Em. I won’t do it.” His rough fingers tickled the back of her arms and down into her palms as he laced their fingers together. 

 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Dean.”

 

It hung in the air between them, a shared thought that neither of them could say out loud.

 

_ Something already has happened.  _

 

“Yeah,” he agreed tightly. 

 

Saying goodbye was the worst part. The thing that none of them had considered was that, even before the explosion changed everything, life was already uncertain. Dean almost died at war. He did die that day in the hospital. Life wasn’t a guarantee. It  _ never  _ was.  

 

“Hey,” she whispered, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Soon we will be a part of a really lame wedding. We will have to get all dressed up and probably dance. I’m not going to die, but I may wish I had while that’s going on.” Emerson smiled at him, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Sounds awful.”

 

“It will be.”

 

“I’ll try to make it better.”

 

“You make everything better,” Emerson whispered back, kissing him one last time. It was a pressure against his mouth, his lips were warm and soft against hers. She could feel him sigh against her kiss, letting his worries melt into her. She would be damned if she let fear ruin another thing in her life. She’d spent every day of her life letting fear rule her, and she was fucking done. 

 

**-4 Years Before-**

 

Emerson didn’t know it, but Dean was there. 

 

It was her high school graduation. He was able to swing some leave before he shipped off to his first real assignment. He was wearing civilian clothes, his favorite t-shirt that now fit just a little too tightly around his newly strengthened biceps. 

 

He went to see Sammy graduate, but there, next to his mother, sat his father with a possessive hand curled around her wrist. He would fuck everything up, so he stood in the background. 

 

His eyes scanned the program, and he felt this big stupid grin grow on his face.  _ Commencement Speech by Emerson Maklen.  _ He was so damn proud of her. They walked two by two up the row to their seats, and even in the rows of identical black, boxy robes his eyes locked on her. He could pick her out of a line up blindfolded. She’d been catching his attention her whole life, after all. 

 

She looked bright and happy, the sun catching the gold in her hair. Hers was the face he thought about on the worst nights of basic training, when all he wanted was to go AWOL and hide in the fucking mountains. It was her smile, her annoyance that lived in her bottom lip, and the judgmental quirk of her eyebrow. 

 

They announced her, and she walked up to the stage, adjusting her cap. Emerson wasn’t like Ophelia, she wasn’t effortless and perfect, but for Dean, that was a lot of her charm. She took the stairs one by one as to not trip, and when she reached the podium she gripped the edges with white knuckles. 

 

_ You’ve got this, Em. _

 

“Good afternoon.” The microphone hissed with feedback and she adjusted accordingly. “I was asked to speak today… scratch that. I was  _ forced  _ to speak today. If any of you know me, you know that I’m a twin. My sister Ophelia is a  _ force _ . When she wants you to do something you say yes. No if ands or buts about it. So when she said she thought I should speak… well, here I am.” She laughed breathlessly into the microphone. 

 

“The truth of the matter is that when you love someone, no doesn’t even come to mind. No matter what she asks me, I’ll do it, because that’s what you do for your family. Love isn’t a word, love is other people. Love is your teacher staying late to explain the concept, love is your mom cutting off the crust to your sandwich, love is laughing until your sides ache,” Emerson said, her voice trailing off as her eyes scanned down to the podium. She had this smile, it was the smallest smile that, if Dean hadn’t been watching her for most of his life, he wouldn’t have noticed. But he had been, so he did notice. “Love is someone who will sit up on the roof and talk about your fears with you. Someone who believes the stars are in your eyes.”

 

It was like having all of the breath knocked out of his body. His mouth went dry, and his hands began to tremble.  _ Is she saying what I think she’s saying?  _ He didn’t think she could possibly know the effect that she had on him, how the world seemed to be brighter when she was in it. He wanted to believe her, to drink her in. He wanted to run up on that stage, rip the cap off her head, and kiss her. She was graduating alright, they both were. 

 

She looked back out to the crowd. “We have spent the last four years growing, changing, and looking to the future. So, class, the only advice I have for you moving forward is to not spend all of your time staring ahead of you, because the moments that we live in are leaving us just as they begin. So be cautious, because in my own pursuit of love and passion for the future, I missed the love that was already here in the present. I missed the joy that the last four years have brought, and no matter what you do, you can’t turn back time. You can’t undo or rewind, you can just make sure to not miss the next opportunity. So let these years ahead of us be the best yet. Take those opportunities as they come, and enjoy them, because, trust me, you’ll miss them when they’re over.”

 

It was only a fantasy. He couldn’t run up onto the stage and kiss her, because she just talked about wanting to live in the moment. He wasn’t a part of her present, he was her past. 

 

He knew that she was right, though, love was a person. Love was Emerson.

 

**-104 Days After-**

 

“Ew, gross,” Ophelia commented, pulling Emerson out of the bubble that she and Dean were in. “Can you guys quit sucking face for five minutes so we can go shopping?”

 

Emerson smiled up at Dean with rosy, embarrassed cheeks. “I’ll see you later.”

 

“See you,” Dean agreed, his hands falling to his sides.

 

Emerson let her gaze linger on him for just a second more before hoisting herself into the Jeep. She adjusted the gun that was strapped to her thigh and started the Jeep. She glanced at Dean in her rear view mirror and watched him throw up a small wave. 

 

“You two seem to be getting along,” Pheli said in an accusing tease.

 

Emerson snorted, rolling her eyes. She put the Jeep in gear and pressed her foot on the gas. “Yeah, so?”

 

“So?  _ So?! _ You’re infuriating, you know that?”

 

She glanced at Pheli with a raised eyebrow. “You’re really bothered by this.”

 

“Yeah, I fucking am!”

 

If Pheli was in a cartoon, smoke would be pouring out of her ears. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Watching you two fight it is  _ exhausting.  _ It’s like watching the longest slow burn of all time. Why don’t you just be together? What are you waiting for?”

 

“What do you mean?” Em asked, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “We are…”

 

“ _ Together?  _ Are you really? I’ve never heard you say that you love him or called him a pet name…” 

 

“Just because we don’t look like you and Sam, doesn’t mean what we have isn’t real.”

 

“I know that,” Pheli murmured softly, her face turning toward her lap. 

 

Emerson focused on the road in front of her. The asphalt was covered in fallen leaves. It would be cold soon, winter was coming and it was something that was frequently on Emerson’s mind. She never let herself focus on relationships and more than anything, she felt as if there were bigger things to worry about. “I know how I feel about Dean,” she admitted quietly. “I know you think I’m fighting it, but I guess I just think that we have what we have. What am I supposed to do- marry him, have babies?”

 

“Well… yeah.” 

 

“Doesn’t that feel just a little… pointless? Look at the world Pheli! It’s so fucked up. You can’t seriously think that some flowers and a white dress will change anything.”

 

“I do,” Pheli snapped, turning toward her sister in her seat. “Pull the fucking Jeep over now.” 

 

Emerson glanced at her sister in surprise and did what she was told. She put the Jeep in park and turned toward Pheli. “What, Ophelia?”

 

“I know you think I’m being shallow, okay. I know you’ve always thought I was shallow. Sweet little Ophelia is too soft to be involved in anything  _ real,  _ if you put her out in the rain she’ll melt. I have news for you Emerson. I  _ know  _ that the world is fucked up. I have two eyes. So, do I think that a wedding will help? Yeah, okay, I do. I think if I’m going to tell Sam how much I love him, I should do it before something horrible happens and I lose him. If I can find an hour, a minute, a  _ second  _ of joy in this goddamn horrible place that we are in, then I’m going to take it. So call me shallow or stupid, or  _ pointless _ if you have to. I get it, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth something.” 

 

For the first time in her life, Emerson realized that she misunderstood her sister completely. She spent her whole life trying to be tough, wearing her suit of armor while Ophelia wore her crown of flowers and played the role of the princess. She always thought that their roles were determined by what they could handle, but it turned out that they each shouldered something. Pheli was the joy. Without sugar a cake would be bitter and horrible, and although they wouldn't still be standing without Emerson’s strength, they wouldn’t have  _ hope _ without Ophelia. She’d been wrong. The whole time she’d been wrong. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped out, covering her mouth. It was like everything inside of her was crumbling. She didn’t have to be the strong one. The two girls came together, their arms tangling in a desperate, rib crushing hug. 

 

“Em, it’s okay,” Phel whispered. 

 

For once, she was inclined to believe her sister. She didn’t mean to sob into her hair, snot and all, but once it started she wasn’t able to turn off the faucet. She had twenty-three years of pain bleeding out of her. 

 

They sat there for what felt like a lifetime, and Pheli let her sister cry it out until there was nothing left. Em felt drained, like the life had been sucked out of her body through a crazy straw. She turned her face and buried it deeper against the crook of her sisters neck. She didn’t have it in her. She had nothing left but a single breath of strength that she was saving. It was her last straw, and she couldn’t use it yet. She knew she would need it and like a proper hoarder she kept it there, hidden behind her ribs right next to her heart. “I’m good,” she said through a shaking, pained exhale. 

 

“You sure?” Pheli pushed her hair out of her face and wiped her tears from her cheeks. 

 

“Yeah, I think so.” Her throat was aching from the sobs, and she knew that her eyes were swollen. “Let’s go get ready for this wedding. You’re right, we deserve some joy.” She took the Jeep out of park and took her sisters hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. 

 

Pheli scooted closer and rested her head on Emerson’s shoulder as they drove into town. 

 

As long as they’d been at the cabin, no one had seen another person in the town. It seemed to have been evacuated months previously. There weren’t a lot of supplies left, but the rest of the town was mostly intact. “Where did you want to look?”

 

“I think there’s a bridal boutique downtown.”

 

It was an old town. The streets were brick, and the buildings were all old, most of them seemed to be the original structures in the town. Emerson pulled the Jeep over and parked in front of the boutique. It was small and locally owned, but it appeared to have survived the looting. The front door looked normal. “I don’t suppose its unlocked?” Emerson questioned, not asking anyone in particular. She tugged on the handle. It was locked. She glanced around before crouching down and grabbing a piece of brick on the ground. With all of the force that she had she slammed the brick into the glass. It fell away easily, and she stuck her arm through the new opening, unlocking the door from the inside. “Bingo.” 

 

“I hate when you guys do that,” Pheli complained, grabbing her sisters arm. She examined it closely, and when she determined that no damage had been done, she released her grip. 

 

“A necessary evil.” 

 

The girls walked through the front door. The shop looked untouched by time and pain, and Emerson understood more than ever why the wedding was a great idea. She walked to a mannequin and ran her fingers along the white satin fabric, her callouses catching on the fabric. She never thought that she’d be the girl that would obsess over a dress, flowers, or the right guy. She didn’t see herself spilling over bridal magazines or trying to find the perfect curtains to match her couch in suburbia. She wasn’t that simple. But there was something about what Pheli said that dug into her, burying itself deep within her. It wasn’t about the dress, or the flowers. It wasn’t about the house or the curtains. It wasn’t so vapid and pointless. It was an outward description of the way that she felt, and if the aching in her chest was any indication, than she should be wearing a princess gown adorned with jewels. 

 

“Em?” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“Look,” Pheli said. Her voice was soft as she held a dress to her chest. “It’s everything.” 

 

“Try it on,” Em suggested with a warm smile. 

 

She wasn’t adorned with jewels. She was hiding behind a veil of darkness and fear, because even after every moment that brought her to the right answer, she still ended up growing into a girl that she never thought she would be. She was worse than vapid, she was broken. For the first time in her life she wished that she could be the simple girl who wanted the wedding dress and the floor length curtains. She wanted anything other than what she had. She wanted to be brave enough to let Dean love her, because even though he said that he would, she knew that he couldn’t wait around forever. 

 

Pheli bit her bottom lip. “You think?” 

 

“Come on, why not? That’s why we’re here.” 

 

“Yeah, but… I don’t know this seems stupid.” Pheli exhaled in a single huff, and Emerson would’ve thought she was itching for a compliment if it weren’t for the tears lining her bottom lashes. 

 

“What’s going on, Phel?”

 

“It’s just… I know that we’ve always known that she wasn’t going to make it, but I still wish Mom was here.” 

 

It was something so normal, that it hadn’t even occurred to her, and the weight in Emerson’s chest pressed down harder, taking her breath away. “Me too.” 

 

She wished a lot of things.

 

“I always thought she would walk me down the aisle, and I guess it’s stupid since it isn’t even real…”

 

“Hey,” Em said, stopping her. “It isn’t stupid, and it’s real. I’ll walk you down the aisle.”

 

Pheli sucked in her nose, sniffling a bit. “Thank you,” she whispered. It was like she needed her sister’s permission to be happy. 

 

“Now go try it on before the Rogues come here and fuck up our fun!” 

 

“Right, right,” Pheli said sarcastically, with a wide smile. “I’m going.”

 

As Pheli disappeared behind the curtain in the dressing room, Emerson wandered. “I’ll be right back!”

 

She opened the front door and stood outside, taking in deep breaths of crisp fall air. There was an antique shop across the street that she wanted to check out. She crossed the street, a little more languidly than usual. It was the peace of the town, the way the cool breeze pushed the leaves, and the way that no sound seemed to penetrate the bubble that they were in. She felt safe, even though she should’ve been on her guard. 

 

The door to the antique shop had already been busted, so she pushed in, her boots crunching on the stray pieces of glass from the broken door. Leaves had blown into the hole in the door, entire shelves had fallen, or been pushed over. The store was a mess, to put it simply, but Emerson was looking for something specific. 

 

She stepped over fallen toys. Wooden horse heads on sticks, dolls with missing eyes, and a lonely tricycle. She climbed over a stray chair and overturned desk. She spotted what she was looking for midway into the shop, and she was going for it, taking the quickest route. There was a glass case toward the back of the store. She placed her palms on the top of the glass and shifted her weight so she could hoist herself over behind the counter. The keys were still in the lock. She turned the key and slid the backing of the case away and looked in through the back. It was dark in the shop from the overcast autumn day, but she was still able to pull each item out and examine it. 

 

There was a set of old pearls that were coated in dust. She pulled her shirt out and wiped them clean, squinting to try to see if they were worth pocketing. She dug around some more and found an aged crystal brooch, a small beaded bag, and a crystal hairpin.  _ Bingo. _ She blew the dust off the hairpin, exposing a beautiful aquamarine crystal. “Something blue,” Emerson murmured. 

 

There was a crash deeper in the store, something fell over, and it pulled Emerson out of her quiet moment alone. She shoved the pin and necklace in her pocket and unclipped her gun from her thigh holster. Her fingers were trembling as she pointed the gun toward the noise. Her finger hovered over the trigger, as her thumb clicked the safety off. She wanted to shout out, but if it was a Rogue, that spelled trouble. She preferred not to use the gun at all. The less noise the better.     
  


She didn’t hear anything else coming from that area. Nothing else had toppled over and there was no groaning. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and slowly hoisted her leg over an overturned chair to get out from behind the counter. She glanced behind her, realizing that if she got into a chase that she would be royally screwed. There was no quick escape route through all of the random items that had been toppled during an earlier raid. 

 

Emerson swallowed hard and moved forward, stepping over fallen items, keeping her hands as steady as she could on her weapon. She pushed a fallen rack of fabric out of the way with her gun, causing dust to invade the air. She coughed a few times, covering her mouth with her bicep. When the air cleared she found herself staring at the back well, the door to the alleyway out back was ajar, but other than that she was completely alone. 

 

She frowned and squatted down finding an old model car that looked like it may have recently fell. It’s spot on the shelf had an empty space where the area around it was covered in a thick layer of dust. She stood up, and her eyes caught a smear on the edge of the door, like a hand had been pulled across the edge, disturbing the settled dust. She walked towards it and placed her own fingers over the smudge. It was easily a size and a half larger than her own hand. Her fingers curled in on themselves, and she put her gun back in her thigh holster before heading back toward the front of the store. 

 

“Em? Emerson!?” 

 

She heard Pheli calling her name from outside of the shop, and her heart picked up in her chest. She picked up speed, jumping over pieces of furniture. She pushed through the front door. “Phel?” 

 

Ophelia stood in the middle of the street looking frantic, her dark eyes wide. “Where the fuck were you?” She asked, running to Emerson. She threw her arms around her sisters neck, squeezing her tightly. “I thought you were toast.” 

 

“No,” Emerson whispered, hugging her sister back. “I’m okay. I’m all good.” 

 

She pulled back from the huge and took in Pheli’s appearance. 

 

She was wearing a long, champagne lace dress, that had a v-neckline, and capped sleeves. It fit her like a glove. Seeing her in it made Emersons chest squeeze. She didn’t have to be one of those girls, but Pheli deserved it. She deserved to be the princess that she spent her entire life pretending to be. “Phel.” 

 

“What?”

 

“You look so beautiful.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“The dress,” Emerson whispered with a smile. “Spin around.” 

 

Pheli looked down, as if it occurred to her for the very first time that she was wearing a wedding dress. She spun slowly, and Emerson grabbed the zipper, pulling it all the way up. “You can’t do that again,” Phel said quietly. 

 

“Do what?” 

 

“Disappear.” 

 

When the zipper was in place Pheli turned back around  and stood face to face with her sister. “I’m sorry,” Emerson said quietly, but smiled. “I was just getting you something.” She dug in her pocket and held out the two items that she stole from the antique shop. “Something old and something blue.” 

 

Pheli ran the pearls around her fingers and held the pin up to the light. She sucked in her breath through her nose and smiled. “Thank you.” 

 

“You’re welcome.” Emerson met her sisters smile, but there was still a hint of something else, something that she couldn’t quite name. It was the thing that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. It was a pair of eyes watching her from the darkness. It was fingers swiping through dust. It was the knowledge that everything was always going to end up the way that it did, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing that she could do about it. “Now lets get home and get you married.” 

 

“Not until I get you an outfit, Emerson Mae. It will be a big night for you, too.” 

 

As she laced her fingers with her sisters and walked back into the bridal shop, she knew, deep down in her soul, that Ophelia was right. It would be astronomical. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! Thank you so much for reading! I just wanted to give you a little update. I have one more chapter planned out for this fic. I do plan on doing a part two, that I hope to begin in about a month. October is really busy for me, and I have a lot of projects, so I’m giving myself a beat to get the next section in order and write a few chapters ahead so I can get back on a regular posting schedule. So stay tuned! I’ll have more official details at the end of the next chapter. <3 
> 
> Thank you again for all of your constant support, it truly makes this all worthwhile!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. What would be more reasonable than to marry you?” – Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

**-106 Days After-**

It was one of those kisses, the kind that slows down time. It was the kind of kiss that has been anticipated for years. It was soft, but passionate. It felt like the first kiss, like the only kiss that ever mattered. It was the kiss that was the beginning and end to everything. It was _the_ kiss, and the moment it happened, she knew that her life would never be the same again.

_Earlier that day_   
  


Ever since they were little girls Ophelia loved to play dress up. She would put on her mother’s high heels and robe and prance around the house pretending that she was a movie star. She’d thought about her wedding day, dreamed about it, and made an incredibly detailed secret Pinterest board dedicated to it. She would wear a princess gown with lots of tulle and sparkles that paired perfectly with a tiara on top of her head. It would happen in a large ballroom with marble floors, high ceilings, and sparkling chandeliers. Sam would cry when he saw her walking down the aisle gripping the arm of her mother. Everything would be perfect.

Pheli stared at herself in the mirror, pushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. She twisted one of her natural loose curls in her finger. It was more like a wave without her iron, but it was the best that she could do.

“How’re you feeling?” Emerson asked, leaning against the doorframe, looking at her sister.

“Nervous,” Pheli admitted.

“Do we need a signal in case you decide to run?” She asked with a wide grin.

Pheli could see her sister in the mirror; her hair was pulled back out of her face in a simple twist bun that hung low on the back of her neck. A few loose curls were already falling out of it, hanging next to her cheek. They’d gotten her a maroon dress that crossed at her chest and hugged her waist before flowing down to the floor. Her knee poked out of a slit, exposing her bare feet against the hard wood floor.

It almost felt like things were different, like it wasn’t the end of the world. It almost felt like she was just a regular girl on her wedding day, like she wasn’t getting married because she didn’t know how much time they had left. Today she was just a girl in a white dress marrying the boy next door. It was that simple. It had to be. “Even if I wanted to run, I have nowhere else to go.”

Emerson put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “No matter what happens, Phel, it’s just me and you like it’s always been. The boys are just a plus.”

She smiled at Em in the mirror. Phel knew that she meant well, that she _wanted_ to believe that they didn’t need the Winchesters, but they both knew that was a lie. If it weren’t for Sam and Dean they would’ve been dead, but more than anything they wouldn’t have hope. Most of the time hope was the only reason that they pulled themselves out of bed. Pheli was an emotional person, all glitter and roses, and she believed in true love. She believed that Sam was the person that was made for her. She was in love with him and the idea of forever with him, even if forever wasn’t as long as it should’ve been. When you love someone there is never enough time. Even though all of that was true, as she looked at her sister she knew that without Emerson she would’ve crumbled long ago.

The girls slept in the same bed for so long. Their mother would tell them that when one wouldn’t stop crying she would stick them together in the same crib, and they would calm each other. _“All you need is each other.”_ That was always true and on their first day of college they cuddled together in the same twin sized bed and fell asleep, their hearts beating as one. Perhaps there was something hanging in the air that was making Ophelia nervous, or maybe it was the fear that the moment she says I do to Sam that it will severe her connection to her sister forever.

She reached up and grabbed Emerson’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Big day,” Emerson whispered with a soft smile. “Enjoy it.”

“You enjoy it, too,” Pheli whispered, almost sounding like a plea.

“I will,” she promised as she kissed the crown of her sister’s head. “Even though you put me in a dress.” She tugged at her breasts, trying to keep them appropriately covered.

“You look beautiful in it.” She turned around in her seat and grinned widely at Emerson. “You should dress like this more often.”

“It’s not really practical.”

“Clothes don’t _have_ to be practical, Em.” She stood up and took her lipstick wand out of the tube. “Do your lips like this.” She relaxed her own lips and when her sister copied her expression, Pheli touched the wand to the full part of Emerson’s lip. She painted in the color like her mother had done for her years before. _“Such a pretty girl.”_ Her mother used to whisper to her as she would braid her hair or apply color to her cheeks and lips. Emerson would fight it at all costs, but Pheli loved it. She loved the time alone with her mother and as she applied the lipstick to her sister, her heart ached for that maternal love that she’d been missing. “Now rub them together just a bit.” She ran her thumb along the line below her lip to wipe away any excess. “Beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” Emerson said breathlessly. “Sam is going to die when he sees you.”

“I hope not literally,” Pheli said, feeling heat dance up her neck. “I really love him, Em.” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

“I know you do.”

“Is this crazy?”

“Definitely, but I think that’s exactly why you have to do it.”

  
  


**-98 Days After-**

  
  


Sam suggested that they go on a walk and even though she was still terrified of going out into the elements, the morning air was fresh and crisp. It smelled like wet leaves and vanilla from her freshly washed hair. His flannel was hanging loosely on her shoulders, and his large hand was wrapped around hers, cradling it.

The leaves were deep reds and oranges. They floated down through the air, fluttering to the ground. She reached up a hand and plucked it from the air. “It’s a trick,” she murmured.

“What do you mean?”

“The calm. I feel like it can’t last. How can it?”

“Because we are together,” Sam whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I have to feel like everything will work out as long as we are still together.”

“You’re an optimist.”

“I learned it from you.”

Her eyes flickered up to his. They glowed more brown than green in the early autumn daylight. She touched his cheek, the hair growing in at his jaw scraping against her palm. He was one of a kind and so much better than she ever could be. Most of her life she felt like she was putting pieces of herself together like one of those old Mr. Potato Head toys growing up. Build the perfect girl. Pick her lips, her eyes, her _ideals,_ and then perhaps you will forget that she was a potato all along. Sam, though, she wouldn’t change a thing. “You’re a beautiful man.”

“You always say that.”

She grinned widely. “It’s the truth.” She used to think about what pretty babies they would have. They’d have this glint of green in their eyes and beautiful thick heads of hair. They’d be kind like Sam and smart like him, too. Maybe they’d have her golden tint to their hair, but mostly she just wanted more of Sam. All that the world would let her have. He made her feel dainty and small from his stature, but she never felt _smaller_ with him. He built her up.

A crow cawed angrily above them, its wings flapping in the stale sky, landing on a fence post next to her. It’s feathers glinted angry red in the sunlight, its black eyes staring at her, past her skin and into her soul. Her heart picked up, and she felt cold all over. She wished she could pull out her phone and see if she remembered correctly, to see if crows were bad omens, because it didn’t _feel_ good. The way the bird looked at her felt like maybe she would die soon. It looked at her like in a matter of hours it’d be picking at her guts like it did roadkill. She almost expected a long wet tongue to slide through its beak and lick its chops in preparation.

“Phel are you listening to me?”

“What?” Her eyes flickered back up to him. “Sorry, I’m just distracted. It’s kind of chilly out here.” She rubbed the goosebumps down on her arms.

“Here,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him. “Let me warm you up.”

He did. He always did. He warmed her up and made her feel safe and _better._ Like she could feel better, _be_ better.

“Sam,” she exhaled his name like a breath she’d been holding.

“Ophelia,” he whispered back, turning her towards him. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Yes.”

“I think I loved you all along.”

“You’re such a softie,” she teased.

He pushed her hair behind her ears, exposing the blush that moved from her neck into her cheekbones. “I never expected that I’d meet the girl of my dreams as young as I did. I didn’t think I’d have that good of luck. Relationships barely last as it is, but it’s different with us. It’s different with you.”

She looked at Sam like he hung the moon, because to her he did. “Everyone always told me that it was childish to be so intense about a boy so young.”

“I like your intensity. It’s charming.”

“I like that you like it.”

“There’s not much I don’t love about you, Phel. Even when you make me mad, I still look at you and there’s not anywhere else I want to be.”

Sometimes when Pheli would look at him it felt like she was waiting for him to laugh and tell her that the jig was up. It was all a joke, and she fell for it. There was no way that someone like him would like her, let alone love her. Not once all of her layers were peeled away. Underneath the makeup, the glitter, and sugar she was just a girl. She was plain and boring. She wasn’t strong enough to withstand anything serious. She easily crumbled. She couldn’t even do the one thing that would’ve been so easy. The one thing that she knew she had to.

“What’s wrong?” His thumb stroked her cheek bone.

“It’s not about what’s wrong.” Her voice was trembling, and she closed her eyes.

“Then why are you crying?” He caught her tear with a kiss.

“Because everything is _right,_ and I feel like it could end at any second.”

Sam was quiet, pensive, thoughtful. It was like she could reach out and capture his thoughts in a jar and watch them glow and flutter around inside of the glass. His hands left her, making her suddenly feel empty. A deep loneliness radiated through her, and she missed him instantly. “That feeling that you have means that this is real.”

“I don’t want,” she began, opening her eyes, but her words halted in her throat. He was down on a knee in the leaves and the dirt, holding a silver ring that glinted red against the leaves. It felt like the world was spinning like someone had just shaken up a snow globe, and she was standing in the center of it. The breeze knocked a few more leaves free and they fell around her like rain. “Sam.”

“Ophelia I don’t want to lose this either. Our time is limited, and I’ve been walking around with this ring in my pocket for way too damn long. Before the explosion, but now more than ever I want you. I want all of you. Be my wife.”

It wasn’t a question which was fine with her, because he already knew her answer. He’d always known.

  
  


**-106 Days After-**

  
  


The aisle was sprinkled with fallen leaves, lined by the candles from inside that burned brightly, the wax bleeding and melting into the crimson blades of grass. The lake glowed with the pinks and purples from the sunset, as the sun dipped began to dip below the horizon.

Sam and Dean stood at the end of the aisle waiting. They managed to snag tuxedos from the bridal shop, and Emerson was _not_ prepared for how Dean would look. Sam covered his mouth when the girls walked down the stairs, Ophelias small train dragging behind her. Em could see his eyes welling up from even that far away, but her eyes quickly locked onto Dean. His jaw was hanging open and his eyes were wide. His lips moved, and she thought she saw him say _holy fuck._

She felt heat dance across her cheekbones, but she couldn’t look away. It wasn’t her wedding, but there was something final about walking toward him like that. The parts of her that she’d spent so long training to not run begged for her to turn around, but she pushed them down, because as she looked at the man in front of her she wasn’t afraid. She offered him a wide grin and a wink and his entire body reacted, his back straightening and his cheeks tugging into a smile.

They reached the end of the aisle, the ground soft under their feet, and Pheli reached her hands out to Sam, Emerson reluctantly letting go of her sister. Her hands tingled when their skin stopped touching like it may have been for the last time.

“I used to think that love was complicated,” Dean began, peeling his eyes from Emerson to look at the couple. They were gripping each other like they were afraid that one would fly away if the breeze caught them. “I didn’t think it was _real._ I always thought it was playing pretend. I t was just another game, another mask that people put on to see mike their life is worth somethin’. I thought love was just a word.” His tongue darted out and over his bottom lip. His eyes locked with Emerson’s then. “But I was wrong. Love is a person. Love is _everything._ There are these moments when you know that someone is meant for you. That no matter how much you fight it, that person will _always_ be your person. There’s no escaping it. Maybe it’s fate. I can’t bring myself to believe it’s God, but maybe when something is supposed to be it just is. The end of the story is always the same no matter what choices we make. Phel, you and Sammy were always so annoying.”

Dean laughed, and Ophelia shot him an annoyed look. Emerson was glad that his attention was off of her, because her vision was static in the corner, his words pounding against her skull like a bad migraine.

“But I guess it was annoying, because I felt like it wasn’t real. I mean, shit, how could it be? You seemed so perfect. You knew each other inside out, and I didn’t get it. The more I’m around you, though, I see that some things can be good with no other strings attached. Sometimes there isn’t another shoe to drop. Happiness ain’t always a thing that comes with a price.” He smiled to himself, his eyes dropping to his hands. He sucked in his breath and held it for a beat before exhaling and bringing his eyes back up. They were wet at the lash line. “All I’ve wanted is for my brother to have happiness.”

“I have more than happiness,” Sam said quietly, squeezing Ophelia’s hands.

“You got vows?” Dean asked, shifting his weight awkwardly. He cleared his throat as if he was trying to fight off his emotions.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a grin. He pulled out an over folded pieces of paper and unfolded it carefully. “I’ll go first.” He cleared his throat and his eyes flickered to the page. “I wrote this letter to Dean when he was over seas. I didn’t get to send it before we found out that he’d been injured, so I kept it in my wallet. Can’t believe Phel didn’t see it since she’s so nosy.”

“Hey!”

“Shh, it’s my turn. You go next.”

“Whatever,” Pheli snarked.

“Dear Dean, I can’t believe I’m writing this down. Telling you makes it all feel so real, and I guess that’s why I’ve been waiting. I saw Mom and Dad and how horrible it always was. I didn’t want to end up like that, trapped in some horrible marriage. We made a vow, you and me when we were kids. I don’t know if you remember or not, but I do. I have to tell you, man, I’m sorry. I have to break our promise. I know we said we would never get married, but _her._ Dean, Ophelia is everything. I can’t live without her, but more than that I don’t want to. Maybe I’m a sap, but that’s fine. She’s it, and I think when you know you know. I guess I shouldn’t apologize, then, because our vow was to not end up like Mom and Dad. There’s no worry of that. Pheli and I will be happy, I know we will be.” He folded the page and stuck it back in his pocket. “Phel I don’t want you to think I make it a habit of breaking promises.” He tilted his head the side and grinned widely.

Emerson couldn’t help it; she could feel Dean’s eyes on her like a weight. His hand may as well have been touching her bare skin by the way the goosebumps rose on her arms and the back of her neck. He was staring at her intently, with his lips parted slightly like he was waiting to be kissed.

“I promise to protect you to the best of my abilities. I will love you fiercely and loyally. I will always kiss you goodnight.”

Dean’s lips twitched into a smile and his lids drooped on his eyes as he caught her looking at him.

“And I promise that no matter what happens I will make sure that every day with you is a day that I cherish. Life is imperfect and impermanent, Phel. It always has been, but more than ever I’ve become an impatient man. I hope you can forgive me for my shortcomings, because my last vow to you is that I vow to love you as completely as I can no matter what you do or what the world turns into. I can’t give you much, Ophelia Maklen, but whatever I have is yours. It’s always been yours.”

Dean’s eyes were so green that sometimes it felt like summer. She could smell the freshly cut grass and feel his rough hands on her skin like she’d always imagined them to be.

“Samuel Winchester,” Pheli said her voice almost a whisper. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. You’re a fantasy. It’s like I built you out of clay and poured myself into you.” She reached out and pressed her palm to his chest. “Sometimes I think my heart is in here with yours, beating strongly. I can’t promise you much, Sam. I want to give you everything… but I don’t have anything that you don’t already have.”

Listening to Pheli and Sam lay it all out on the table in front of the sky and all of the angels were making Emerson want to make a declaration. As she looked across the couple and into Dean’s eyes so wondered why in the hell she waited so long. She didn’t know why she let fear rule her. All he wanted to do was love her, and she just couldn’t let him.

“I vow to be the best version of myself when I’m with you. I will love you with my entire heart and soul. I promise to never give up. I won’t ever stop fighting to be with you, and if I die before you I will be there to greet you again.”

Life was short. She’d been _so stupid,_ so stubborn.

“I promise to embrace the future that we have together even if it wasn’t what I had planned. Just because something looks different doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful. If you’re in my life, Sam Winchester, everything will be so much more beautiful.”

“Alright,” Dean said with a hoarse voice. “Sammy, repeat after me. I Samuel Winchester of sound mind and able body will be with you in sickness and health, if the sky falls, or the ground shakes.”

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned at Pheli. “I Samuel Winchester will be with you in sickness and health, if the sky falls, or the ground shakes.”

“I will respect your boundaries and ask my brother for sex pointers if I’m falling short.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Fine, just the respect boundaries part.”

“I will respect your boundaries,” Sam said genuinely.

Dean’s eyes met Emerson’s in the softest way. The curve of his lip and crinkle around his eyes made her heart squeeze in her chest. “I will love you until the day that I die.”

Sam and Ophelia repeated Dean’s words, well almost all of Dean’s words, and when he pronounced them husband and wife they kissed. They kissed like they were the only two people in the planet, and Emerson could’ve sworn that she could feel the love radiating off of them like it was radioactive. She half expected her hair to stand on end from the electricity.

Sam picked his new wife up and spun her around. Ophelia let her head fall back with a hearty laugh. Her arms hung loosely at Sam’s shoulders, her fingers tugging at the long pieces of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Pheli leaned her face in toward Sam’s, and she murmered something at the base of his ear, something likely vulgar by the red flush that crept up his neck, ears, and cheeks. “We, uh, we will be back,” Sam grunted after clearing his throat. Pheli turned and flashed her sister a devilish smile.

Emerson shook her head with false disapproval and a smile as she watched Sam throw his bride over his shoulder and bound up the stairs toward the house. “They’re not wasting any time are they?” Emerson asked with a laugh, her eyes lingering on the invisible trail of love that floated behind her sister and new brother in law. When she turned she found Dean a breath away from her, still with that same expression like he was waiting to be kissed. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Want to go for a walk?”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, because what else _could_ she say?

He put his hand on the small of her back and lead her down a path through the trees. They were quiet, the weight of the wedding and all that it stood for was still evident in the air. Emerson almost felt the shift in the air when they kissed, like the universe was agreeing that it was so. They were one, even though her entire life, Pheli and she had been one. It was sort of like losing a limb. It was tragic.

“What are you thinking about?” Dean asked her, his eyes fixed.

“The trees,” she decided, after a moment. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“But it’s so quiet.” She stopped walking and closed her eyes. “There’s something haunting about it. No people. No cars. There’s just… silence.”

“I think I can fix that,” Dean said wryly, tilting his head to the side. A grin was growing on his face, his freckles seeming to sparkle in the twilight.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded and reached into the jacket of his tuxedo and pulled out all old classic iPod with a long white cord attached. He wiggled and ear bud at her. “Want to have a listen?”

Her lips parted, because she wanted to say… what? She nodded instead and took the bud from him, sticking it in her ear. He followed her lead and put the opposite in his own ear. He powered up the iPod and selected a song, pressing play.

The music started and her eyes were filled with a soft, but familiar tune. Her eyes flickered up to his. “Really?”

“Shut up, I’m doing a thing.” He offered his hand to her, as if asking her to dance. She eyed him suspiciously before placing her palm in his.

_Don’t wanna close my eyes, don’t wanna fall asleep cause I’d miss you babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing._

Dean pulled her against him with a gentle strength. His hand pressed against her lower back, leading her. He was just as amazing of a dancer as before, better even. Perhaps it was the suit, the music, and the wedding, but she could feel herself falling in love with him there under the trees. “You look incredible, if it isn’t obvious,” he whispered against her ear.

“So do you. Clean up nice, Winchester.”

“We make a pretty nice pair, Maklen.”

She pulled back and placed her palms against his cheeks. It was a vast understatement to say that they made a good pair. The perfect pair was more accurate. Two broken people that would never allow themselves to be loved by another person, finally coming together in a way that could only be described as magical. _That_ was more accurate, but Emerson could never say that out loud. She couldn’t bring the words to her lips, because she knew that life was painfully short. If she told him that he lit her on fire, that he made her heart race, and her life make sense when she was with him, then what? There were so many unknowns in her life, she didn’t need one more. So instead of telling him all of the words that begged to take flight off of her tongue, she kissed him.

_Even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream will never do._

It was one of those kisses, the kind that slows down time. It was the kind of kiss that has been anticipated for years. It’s soft, but passionate. It felt like the first kiss, like the only kiss that ever mattered. It was the kiss that was the beginning and end to everything. It was _the_ kiss, and the moment it happened, she knew that her life would never be the same again.

_I just want to hold you close, feel your heart close to mine._

She thought that she may cry, emotion welling up in her chest, her throat. Emerson needed the kiss to tell him anything he needed to know. She tried to push everything she was feeling into him, breathe it into him like CPR. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to her. She wanted to blend into him. The pressure of his chest on hers caused an ache in her ribs. “I need you,” she whispered against his lips.

Dean Winchester didn’t need to say a word. His hands ran down her sides and gripped her thighs, picking her up. She followed his lead and wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tightly in position. She wished for a million things. She wished that she was braver, that she’d said everything that she felt so long ago, and that the world was different. Wishes were bullshit, though, they were pretend, like most everything else. Her teeth scraped against his bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth, and sucking gently. He groaned in response, squeezing her thighs. His hands felt stable and strong, like he could hold her there forever, and she worried if she wasn’t with him then she would never be. Her soul was threatening to fall apart and crumble in his hands like sand.

“Em I…”

“Be with me, Dean,” she said desperately, running over his words.

His green eyes flickered open in alarm. They were two emerald question marks. He wanted permission. He wanted her to say it, but she couldn’t make her lips form any other word except for _now_.

Her hands moved from around his neck to the opening of his tux jacket, pushing it down his arms, and she kissed him again like it may be the last thing she will ever do. She kissed him with bruising force, and he held her up with one arm so his other could wiggle out of the jacket. He turned her without a word and pressed her back against the base of a tree. The bark scratched against her back, sending additional chills up her spine. She squeezed her thighs around his waist so together they could shed his layers. Each button was a chore. His pristinely tied bow tie now discarded to the side. He reached behind him to pull the neck of his white under shirt.

Her fingers immediately went to his chest, trailing over his freckles. He was so beautiful it was unreasonable. Even with the healed scars from his accidents, the most recent raised and pink. She pressed her lips to each one as if to say _thank you for saving me._ His own mouth found hers again, licking into hers. Her head tilted back, her hair tangling in the bark.

His tongue and lips left a trail from her lips, jaw, neck, and collarbone. His fingers hooked in the strap of her dress and his eyes flickered up to her once more. He was sweet, but the question was serving as a reminder, so she pulled his head back to her skin, her own fingers reaching behind her to tug down her zipper.

Emerson Maklen was not the kind of girl to fuck in the woods. She wasn’t the kind to _fuck_ at all, but things had changed, and they’d continue to change. There wasn’t much she could do about it, or much she _wanted_ to do about it. The world was falling apart around them, and she had Dean. Dean made her feel safe. Dean made her feel alive.

His fingers walked along her ribs almost clinically until they reached her back, taking the zipper and pulling it down effortlessly. She could feel the fabric sag along her skin, and she let out a sigh like she’d been holding in her breath. He didn’t move the dress away from her breasts, even though they hung below the fabric, her nipples already hardening at the chill of the breeze. He leaned in and kissed her neck again with a gentleness that was almost chilling. His hand ran down other back, pressing firmly against the small of her back to hold her in place as his lips slowly, torturously, trailed down her skin. He sucked and nipped at her collar bone, marking her.

“Dean,” she almost whined, hating herself for being so desperate, so needy, but the years of complete anticipation was eating her alive.

“Shh, Emerson.” Deans voice vibrated against her skin, low and rough. That did _not_ help her situation. She sucked in her breath, her mouth immediately going dry. “Let me.”

She closed her eyes and succumbed, deciding that she would have to be fine with letting her hands explore his skin. She wanted to memorize him, the curves of the bones and muscle under his skin. The raised scars, and the places that caused his muscles to tighten when her fingers grazed against them.

He kissed down her arm, her elbow, wrist, knuckles, and then his opposite hand slowly worked her strap down. She followed his lead, impatiently sliding her other arm out, and when her breasts were free he pulled back. He pulled away from her, his lips already swollen and pink from kissing, and he stared at her desperately. His green eyes softened, and he went from looking hungry to _starving_. His tongue ran over his bottom lip in slow motion.

“Fuck, Em.”

_I’m trying._

Dean shook his head and laughed a little, running his fingers along her cheek, and he pushed a stray lock behind her ear. His knuckles ran down her neck, along her collar bone, and at the fullest place of her breast. He let out a shaking breath, and she sucked hers in. “Emerson Maklen,” he whispered her name, already sounding completely wrecked. “I..”

And she was kissing him, silencing him with her lips. She reached down, her fingers tickling down his stomach, taking his belt in her fingers and easily unlatching it. The moment his zipper came down he was pulling her dress over her head and tossing it away.

Dean leaned down on a knee, taking his tux jacket and laying it down in the leaves before gently laying Emerson down on her back. She was breathing heavily already, her chest rising and falling with labored breath. It was dark out, Dean’s shape was illuminated by the full moon that’s light trickled through the trees branches. He kicked away his pants, and they had just a single layer between them.

He leaned down and he kissed her softly, just once, like a flutter or a promise. Then he touched her cheek gently and stared into her eyes like he was trying to see into her soul.

She was terrified of what he was thinking, but more than anything she was dying to know. “ _Dean,”_ Emerson gasped out.

But he didn’t answer her. He just kissed her. He kissed her everywhere. He kissed her breast, taking her nipple between his lips and sucking gently, sending her head spinning. She’d fought it for so long. He sucked and nipped at the inside of her thigh, leaving purple puckers in his wake. He left his mark on her outwardly for the first time. She tried to keep herself at arms length, because the last time she let herself feel what she was teetering the edge of feeling it was devastating.

Dean glanced up at her with hooded eyes as he kissed along her panty line. She could feel the heat of his kiss through the thin fabric, and she throbbed desperately. “Dean,” she whispered his name again, more insistent this time. She knitted her fingers in his hair and tugged his lips away so he could look at her. “But last time.” She promised herself a long time ago that she wouldn’t bring it up, that she wouldn’t be the desperate, pathetic, _insecure_ girl. Some promises were made to be broken.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, moving back up her body. One of his arms held himself up, and the other cradled her face. “I will never leave you again, Emerson Maklen. You hear me?”

  
  


**-5 Years Before-**

 

Dean Winchester was leaving.

“Part of me thinks I’m gonna die out there,” he admitted into the night.

They sat on the roof of the Maklen house side by side. He still had cigarette smoke fresh on his lips, his lungs still tingling from his most recent inhale. He was leaving for the army soon, sooner than he wanted as he sat so close to Emerson that he could smell the coconut lotion on her skin.

“I thought you were going to be a mechanic?”

“I am, but I don’t know. I’ve got a gut feeling.”

“Well can you do me a favor, and I don’t know, not die?” Emerson asked, almost looking annoyed.

“Aw, Em, your heart is showing.” He reached forward and poked her chest, right above her heart, before realizing that he was touching her boob. His face immediately flushed and he pulled his hand away.

“It is not,” Emerson huffed, batting him away. “I don’t care okay?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he mumbled before sighing. “Not surprised, though, other than Sammy I think I could just leave and no one would notice.”

“Dean quit with the pity party shit, okay?” She took his face in her hands. “I’m only going to say this once, okay? And don’t you ever fucking mention it again, or I swear I will shove you off this roof. Got it?”

“Uh, got it,” he said, his heart pounding. He could feel her breath on his lips because she was so close.

Emerson let out a quick breath. “I know what it feels like to be the one overlooked. I’m twins with Pheli for Christ sakes. That doesn’t mean you aren’t worth it, Dean. You want me to fucking say it, don’t you? I’d miss you. You’re so annoying, you have a shitty smoking habit, and you’re the biggest smart ass I know. But you fight for your brother and you listen. I’m not here to be your cheerleader or your mom. It’s time that you start learning your own worth, Dean. No one can change your mind but you,” she said softly, her eyes flickered to his. “You see me, Dean, and I see you.”

Dean looked at Emerson. There was a glisten in her eye, her cheeks and bare shoulders were lightly freckled from the summer sun, and she tugged at a string on her tank top. He knew it was hard for her. She wasn’t exactly the type to give grand speeches. She didn’t let people in. “You do see me, don’t you?” A piece of blonde hair fell out of her braid and into her eye. He reached forward and brushed it out of her eye. “Then how come every time I look at you, you’re always lookin’ away?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, turning her head away from him. Her eyes were focused off somewhere in the distance.

“Come on, Em,” he said quietly, almost desperately. “What’s out there that’s so interesting? What’s out there that’s more important then this...”

“I told you, there is no _this_. You just don’t listen.”

“Nah, I heard you loud and clear. I just know the difference between the truth and a lie. I’m leaving tonight, don’t you think I deserve the truth?”

“I don’t know why you think you deserve _anything_ from me.”

He winced and nodded, resting his forearms on his knees. He was suddenly painfully aware of the distance he was from the ground, but the tug of gravity was nothing compared to his need to scoot closer to her. No matter how many times she pushed him away, he was magnetized to her. He needed her like the fucking air. “It’s not fair. I know it’s not, but I...”

“You’re right it’s not. You’re leaving, Dean. You’re leaving tonight. Your bag is packed. I can’t... what you want, I just can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She sucked her breath in, recoiling within herself. “Won’t.” Her voice was a whisper. “It’s easier this way.”

“Emerson,” Dean said her name like a breath he’d been holding. His lungs ached and it came out almost breathless. “I don’t want easy.”

“What about me?” She asked, turning to him. Her eyes were wet at the edges. Her cheeks were tight, trying to hold everything inside. She looked like she could explode at a moments notice, like she couldn’t take it anymore. “What about what I want? Or do you even fucking care?”

“Fuck, Em. Of course I care... I’ve never cared about anyone like this before.”

“You’ve got a real way of showing it.”

“I know. I fuck up everything I touch.” He looked down and noticed her fingers curled into her pajama bottoms.

“Don’t do that.”

He looked back up at her. “What?”

“Act like that’s what this is about.”

“Ain't it? You said it all... I smoke, I’m annoying, I’m bad for you... but I still can’t stop pushing. Like what? I don’t know what I fucking expect to happen. I don’t seriously think someone like you could want... with me. No fucking way.”

“You’re right, Dean.”

Her words were a cut deep within him. They went right to his core. He closed his eyes tightly, as if the darkness could dull her and make her disappear.

“I don’t know what you expected to happen when you climbed up here. You’re leaving. Your bag is packed. You made your choice and in one swift motion you made mine, too. So what did you think was going to happen when you came up here?”

“I... I didn’t think. I just saw you, and I couldn’t stay away. I’m gonna have to put an ocean between us to stay away from you, Em,” Dean said, brushing her cheek with his hand. He didn’t want her to disappear, so he looked at her, even though it hurt, because looking at her was a hell of a lot better than looking away.

“You’ve got a lot of good words, Dean Winchester. You piss me off to no end and then you say shit like that. It’s no wonder you get a lot of girls.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t get a lot of girls. Before? Sure. After the dance...” He laughed. “Hell yeah. I couldn’t... I didn’t _want_ to want you.”

“Likewise,” she said, her face relaxing a bit into his story.

“But fuck, it ain’t that easy to just turn it off and after awhile I didn’t want to anymore. It was too exhausting pretending.”

“Pretending is all I have,” Emerson admitted quietly.

“This things between us...”

“Is complicated.”

“It’s real,” Dean said insistently. “Don’t you feel it, too?” He caught a tear on her cheek with his thumb, and he continued the embrace and traced her jaw.

“There isn’t enough time,” Emerson said weakly, leaning into his touch.

“We have tonight,” he offered, knowing it wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough.

She took his fingers in hers, and he gave them a gentle squeeze in response. There were so many things unsaid between them. She stood up slowly on the roof, pulling Dean up with her. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but she turned before he could, releasing his hand, and opening her bedroom window.

She was giving up, like she always did.

“Em? I’m sorry I...”

She put her lower body through the window and turned to look at him. She offered him a hand. “Coming?”

At least that’s what he thought.

“Huh?”

“Dean,” she said gently, and it sounded like the first time she’d ever said it. He put his hand in hers and slid through her open window.

  
  


**-106 Days After-**

  
  


“I will never leave you again, Emerson Maklen. You hear me?”

Emerson leaned into his touch and stared into his eyes, and for the first time in her life she decided to believe him. “I hear you.” She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him. The kiss was a promise. Dean ran his tongue along her bottom lip, and she allowed her jaw to relax so his tongue could enter her mouth.

Dean Winchester kissed the corner of her mouth and slid back down her body. His lips brushed along the skin under her belly button and suddenly she could picture it. She could see everything that she could’ve had.

“ _Let’s put a baby in you,” he would say, murmuring against her skin, his lips curled into a smile._

“ _No way!”_

“ _Come on,” he would whine. “I want a piece of us. I want a daughter that’d look just like you.”_

_How could she say no? So they’d make love over and over again until they got it right._

Her heart ached at everything she would never have, but the pain that radiated through her quickly melted away as she felt Dean’s fingers curl around the edges of her panties, working them down her body. She heard him suck in his breath and when she stole a look at him he was staring dumbfounded.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

He shook his head slowly. “Okay doesn’t even begin to cover it, Sweetheart.”

She swallowed hard and let her head fall back and her eyes close as he licked his lips. Dean kissed the inside of her thigh, causing an immediate arch in her back. She could feel him smirk against her skin, and he teasingly moved his lips closer and closer.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it a thousand times. Every time they’d fight and his tongue would dart out of his mouth to wet his lips and his nerves. He was so smug and she just wanted him to put his money where his mouth was.

Emerson let out a gasp as he brushed his lips against her. His hands pushed her thighs a little wider, and he went to work.

He had every right to be smug.

It wouldn’t take much, she knew as his tongue flicked her clit quickly. The satin inside of his tux jacket was slick against her back and even the leaves felt like a pillow top, and she thought she may sink into it and fall into the ground. That’d be okay with her. Her skin tingled, goosebumps rising on her legs as he slid a finger inside of her. She opened her eyes in a poor attempt to stay conscious. Dean hummed between her legs, and she caught his eyes as he pulled his face away a bit to watch her reaction to the movement inside of her. He hooked his finger, and she gasped out.

His eyes locked with hers, and she suddenly felt so far away from him. _“I’m gonna have to put an ocean between us to stay away from you, Em.”_

She propped herself up by her elbows and reached forward, grabbing the back of his neck to move his face back to hers. She pressed her forehead against his, and she breathed him in.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You good?” His thumb brushed her cheekbone.

She was crying, and she didn’t even notice.  
  


**-5 Years Before-**

  
  


Emerson’s bedroom was empty and quiet. She released his fingers and walked away from him, far enough to only get away from the buzz between them. The moon shone through the open window; the light was speckled from the tree connecting their houses. He watched her back, waiting desperately for her to say something, anything.

“So,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to fill the awkward silence. “You’ve got nice digs.” He turned to her dresser, pulling a bear off the top. “He’s cute. This your boyfriend? I’ve got big competition.”

Emerson remained silent. Her head was spinning. He was in her mind, overshadowing all of her other senses. He was an eclipse. She could feel him like a weight on her shoulders. His presence was hot and urgent like a good kiss. She suddenly yearned for the sky or the ocean, anywhere else to put her mind and her eyes. She wanted to put her focus on a boat and send it off to sea, but she couldn’t.

She wasn’t the girl that jumped into the ocean. She thought too much and talked herself out of everything, but somehow she was considering it. She was considering jumping headfirst into everything. Something inside of her knew. It knew that everything would end in fire, that they couldn’t possibly last. Pheli always preached about a love that lasted forever, through time, through pain, but there was something about a love that only lives for a moment. Not everything worth having lasted forever.

Emerson and Dean were a sunset. They were orange, purples, and pinks. They were clouds illuminated by a sun that was so fucking exhausted that it couldn’t stay upright anymore. They were breathtaking enough to stop and look. They stretched across the entirety of the sky, encompassing everything in a pure and beautiful, once in a lifetime warmth. A sunset lasts a matter of minutes. It cannot be captured in a jar and held for later. It glows beautifully before it disappears into the darkness. Just because it’s temporary doesn’t stop anyone from stopping and basking in it while they had the chance.

“Come on, Em. Say something. Yell at me. Kick me out. Just... say something. I can’t fuckin’ take it.”

Emerson wanted the sunset.

“I don’t want to lie anymore, Dean,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” he agreed, putting the bear back down. “I just don’t...”

Her hand was on his shoulder, turning him to look at her. Their faces were a breath apart as she closed the space between them in a slow kiss.

She read somewhere that the build up for a kiss was better than the kiss itself. The anticipation. The butterflies and tingling and the want. As soon as she pressed her lips to Dean’s she thought that whoever wrote that was a fucking idiot. There was nothing as good as kissing Dean, and they had years of build up.

He sighed into her lips, relaxing after a moment of surprise. She took one more step, pressing his back against her dresser.

“It’s just you and me,” she gasped into his kiss. “There’s no need to lie when it’s just us. Not anymore.”

She stepped back a bit and pulled her shirt over her head tossing it to the ground. Her tank top falling to the floor. She grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him again. Emerson could feel his hand trailing down her spine and gripping her waist in his hand. It felt good to be with him, to let go, and she needed him more than she’d ever needed another person. She clawed at the back of his shirt, rolling it up and throwing it over his head.

It was all passion, sloppy, needy, and full of desire. Dean laid her back on her bed and kissed her. “Em, I…”

“Don’t say it, Dean. If you say it, then I’ll never be able to let you go.”

So he didn’t. He pressed his lips together, and he slid her pajama bottoms off, because sometimes nothing needed to be said. Sometimes there weren’t enough words to describe a feeling. Emerson and Dean were without words, but they weren’t without action. They weren’t without a shared look and as he guided himself into her, Emerson thought she may never find the words again.

  
  


**-106 Days After-**

  
  


Dean wiped a tear from Emerson’s cheekbone, catching it before it could roll down her cheek completely. _I’m making her cry._ His gut clenched at the realization. “Em, hey.”

She shook her head and kissed him again. Her hands fumbled with the elastic waistband on his boxers and started to work them down. There was a tightening in his groin, as if he could be any harder than he already was. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be with him and Emerson. It was supposed to be different. She was everything, and she didn’t know.

He wanted to go slow, to take his time. He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Em,” Dean whispered again. He could feel his eyebrows come together in concern. “We don’t have to do this.”

Her dark eyes locked with his. There was a deep sadness within them, something that reached deep down inside of her. He searched her face for answers, for a door into her mind, but she was locked away tight. “I do.”

“No,” he assured her. “You don’t. We don’t have to. I’m not goin’ anywhere, I told you…”

“I want to,” she practically squeaked, causing his frown to deepen even more.

“You’re crying, Em.” He sat up, with his palm between her shoulder blades to sit her up with him. “Talk to me. I’m not doing this with you if you’re crying. I won’t hurt you. I won’t fucking do it.”

Her legs were around his waist, keeping them close together. His boxers were already worked half down, and her naked body was so close to him that he was having a hard time focusing. None of that mattered, though, it wasn’t about him. It was about _her_. It’s always been about her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it against the whisper of a breeze.

“Start by telling me why you’re crying. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He reached back and rubbed her shoulders, his thumb pressing circles into her tight muscles. She winced and closed her eyes, but the tears didn’t stop. “You can tell me anything. I promise.”

“Dean Winchester,” Emerson whispered with almost a laugh. “You always know just what to say, don’t you? What? Are you a fucking poet?”

He watched her seem to mull behind her eyelids like she was trying to decide something.

She let out a trembling breath and sucked one back in. She sounded like she was trying to calm her tears before she broke down completely and fuck did that hurt. All he wanted to do was make it better, crack some dumb joke, hold her while she let it all out, but there were at a cliff side and if he wasn’t careful they’d fall into the chasm below.

Her eyes finally opened, and she stared at him. Her lip was sucked into her mouth, and she shook her head. “I’m so screwed.”

“What?”

“God I wish I was stronger. I wish I wasn’t so afraid.”

He sighed and looked down. “What are you afraid of, Em? I know our lives are dangerous right now, but…”

“Fuck, do you need me to say it? You can’t just let me _be?”_ She looked at him as if she expected an answer, but he was so fucking confused. She laughed and wiped another fresh tear with the back of her hand. “It’s you, Dean.” Her face twisted in pain, and she touched his cheek. “It’s always been you. I don’t know who I’ve been trying to fool all of this time. Maybe it was just me. I wouldn’t let myself be happy.”

“What are you saying?” He asked with caution. He could feel his heart rate leap, but there was risk to it all. If she was saying what he thought she was saying, he hade to be sure. If he was wrong he knew he’d never recover.

“I’m saying that I love you, you stubborn ass. I love you, and I’ve been in love with you practically my whole life.”

  
  


**-5 Years Before-**

  
  


They laid together, their naked bodies twisted legs through legs. The moonlight came through the window speckled across their bodies. Emerson grabbed for the sheet, her eyes barely open from exhaustion. Deans arms we’re wrapped around her protectively as he absentmindedly stroked the length of her spine.

He was leaving for Basic, and there was no changing that. There was no out that he could take, and the woman curled at his side changed nothing. She changed _everything._ He closed his eyes and pressed his face to her hair, breathing in the scent of her rose shampoo. He thought for a second that he might just cry right there into her hair, but he didn’t. What good would that do? He already fucked up more than he could’ve ever imagined.

Emerson was always the goal. She was the goal that he knew he would never get, but that was okay. He knew he couldn’t have everything, but just knowing she was around usually was enough. He didn’t intend to fall in love with her, and he sure as fuck didn’t intend for her to reach into his chest and break his heart. Maybe he was breaking his own.

He loved her, and he knew it. He’d known it for a long time, even if he was too afraid to say it out loud. There was a dark cloud, though, that hovered over him. It was an omen saying that he wasn’t going to survive this world. He wasn’t going to survive the Army. He didn’t know how, but he could feel it in his bones. What they did wasn’t fair fro her. He should’ve never climbed over to her roof in the first place.

“I can hear your mind turning, Dean,” Emerson murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“You can?”

“Mhm, it sounds like a clock, like gears.”

He kissed her forehead in response.

“What are you so worried about?” Her finger traced circles on his checks, connecting his freckles.

“I’m not.”

She let out a sigh, her breath tickling his skin. “I thought we said no more lying, Dean…”

“Emerson,” Dean said, tilting her chin up so she would look at him. She propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. “I don’t want to waste any time with the shit I can’t change.”

“But we…”

And he kissed her. He kissed her like it may be the last thing he’d ever do. He kissed her like it was the end of the world. He kissed her like he was saying goodbye.

  
  


**-106 Days After-**

  
  


“Say something,” Emerson stammered, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. The words _I love you_ seemed to echo throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, off their hearts.

“You love me.”

“That’s not exactly what I…”

And he kissed her. It was their language, after all. Snark and stolen kisses in the night. He said they’d go slow, but how could he put on the breaks when she looked at him with swollen lips and desperate eyes. How could he put on the breaks when she told him that she loved him. That she’s always loved him.

She scooted closer, completely onto his lap, her thighs tightening around his waist. He would’ve been content to be in that moment forever. Just being close to her felt like enough. He could taste the salt of her tears on his lips, the wetness on her cheeks brushed against his own, and he moved his hands from her back and held her face. There was a gentleness, a softness to her that he’d never seen before. It was like she cracked wide open and everything inside of her was pouring out.

Emerson moved even closer, the warmth between her legs pressing urgently against him, making a chill rush up his spine. _Holy fuck._ He hadn’t considered the extent of what this all meant. She loved him. She _loved_ him. It wasn’t a fuck. It was one time. He pulled away from her face for just a second, and he looked into her eyes. They were forever.

Dean lifted them up slightly so he could discard his underwear. The cool autumn breeze didn’t register on his too-hot skin. He laid her back, her hair spilling out on his tux jacket. She was so fucking beautiful he couldn’t even process. Her cheeks were flushed, cheekbones sharp from the weight she’d lost from all of the stress, her hair was longer than he’d ever seen it, and she was breathing heavily. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She wasn’t the five year old girl who wrecked her bike, or the teenage girl who jumped off the pier into the ocean. She was Emerson, and he didn’t think he’d ever love anyone as much as he loved her.

She gasped as he slid into her, slowly, cautiously, because he knew that she’d been through trauma. He didn’t want to be another trauma for her. His skin tingled, and he pressed his lips to hers. They melted together, and she felt like she was relaxing. Her fingers dug into his shoulder blades, nails scratching at his spine as he sped up. She moved with him like they were one person, like she knew him, because she did. She knew him in his soul.

Emerson grabbed ahold of his shoulder and shifted their weight, flipping him over. She pressed him deeper into her and part her hands on his chest, taking his breath right from his body. He stared up at her, with her hair spilling around her, and he could’ve sworn that she wasn’t real. So he reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear, and she smiled.

She moved against him, rolling her hips and letting her head fall back. She moved like a fucking goddess, like she was glowing from deep inside of her skin, like a dying star waiting to explode. He loved her with his entire body, and he was spilling over. She bent forward with a gasp as he met her with a deep thrust. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and he turned his face to disappear within her hair. “I love you, too, Em. I love you so fucking much.”

Under the moonlight and thick clouds, covered by trees, they tipped over the edge together, spiraling toward the chasm, and they didn’t fucking care. They’d always expected things to be so much heavier, when they said it all out loud, but they were wrong. Everything was lighter. It was like they were inflated, like they’d finally clicked. The puzzle pieces went together perfectly, and nothing would ever take that away.

Dean held her, draping his shirt over her back to keep her warm and they stared at the sky. His skin still buzzed from the friction and the orgasm pulsed through him like a drug. He glanced down at her with a wryly smile. “You love me.”

“Don’t make me regret saying that out loud, Winchester.”

“You love me,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re in love with me.”

“I’ll kill you,” she warned, trying to push away from him.

“You don’t get it,” Dean whispered, and she finally looked at him. Emotion welled up inside of him and he had to pause to keep it all in, because fuck, the last five years were horrible. They were void of any light. He lost Charlie. He found Lisa and lost her. He lost his sense of himself. He thought he’d lost Emerson all together and looking at her with her flushed skin that glistened with sweat, he thought he might fucking lose it. “You love me. That was never an option. Someone like you… fuck, Em. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me.”

She pressed her lips together and her eyes welled up along the edges. He could tell even in the darkness, as the silver light from the moon caught the wetness at her lash line. “Dean Winchester,” she murmured, touching his cheek. “Of course I was.”

  
  


**-5 Years Before-**

  
  


Dean looked down at Emerson cuddled on his chest. Her hair spilled out around them, and he loved her so much that it fucking hurt. Her breath tickled his skin, and he wanted to wake her up and make love to her again. He was already feeling an emptiness in his chest knowing that their time was limited. It felt like they’d just found each other, and he had to go. Maybe leaving her was what would kill him and not the war. Maybe she would write to him. They could talk on the phone, and he could visit on holidays.

He could see it already.

_Dear Em,_

_The sun is hot here, but not as hot as you._

It’d be lame, but she’d send him pictures with her letters. He would have them inside of his helmet so she’d always be with him. He’d come home to her and put a ring on her finger. Everything would be fucking right, because when they’re together life is just as it’s supposed to be.

Or he would die out there.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and his fathers words came into his mind like a punch to the teeth. _Ain’t nobody gonna love you boy. You’re dirt._

He couldn’t ask her to wait for him. How could he? What kind of fucking life would that be for her? Who wants to have a relationship with a pen and paper? Especially for a man who never once proved his worth. Dean didn’t fight for her, at least not until it was too late. He didn’t deserve her at all. A sick feeling grew inside of him, and he slid out from under her. All of the feelings that had bubbled up inside of him, everything good that he felt was being buried like dirt on top of a coffin. He was swallowing it with every breath, sucking it into his lungs until he was suffocating. He slid on his pants and shirt and held his boots in his hands. She’d curled under the blanket and held the pillow against her chest.

She was beautiful. She looked almost like a painting, and he took out his phone and took her picture. He selfishly held it to his chest before sliding it into his pocket. He opened the window and started to climb out when her voice came out, rough and full of sleep.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at her, and her eyes were still almost completely closed. He walked to her and sat on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through her hair.

“I think I…”

“I know,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “Me too. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t go.” She buried her face back into the pillow.

He wasn’t confident that she would remember any of it, so he pressed his forehead to hers. “I won’t,” he whispered before he climbed out the window and into the night.

  
  


**-106 Days After-**

  
  


Everything was perfect. There were only so many moments in a single life that were allowed to be completely, unapologetically perfect. The worst part, was that the moments often were overlooked until after they passed. Dean and Emerson were trying to drink each other in, enjoy the quiet of the night and the way that it felt to just _be_ for once in their lives. They spent so much time saying why not, but this time they chose to say nothing at all.

Emerson propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Dean, she could count every freckle in the moonlight, every worry line. He could’ve been a model or a rockstar with his looks. He could’ve had anyone, been anyone. Life was funny the way it worked out.

But life was also cruel.

_Bang!_

A perfect moment could be ripped apart as easily as wet paper, falling apart in the rain. Her mouth opened as she tried to register the sound that echoed off the trees, sending angry, unrecognizable caws from birds that vacated the trees with wide, featherless wings.

It was a nice thought, that love could fix any problem. But no amount of love could fix the fear and terror on Emerson’s face as she looked up at Dean, a sick feeling rolling through her gut as she realized that the sound was a gun firing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y’all! Thank you for your patience. I started a new job, and I really wanted to make sure this was right. There will be a part 2 coming in the near future, but I need to get a handle on. My other projects first. So I’ll just leave you with that awful cliffhanger to mull for a bit. Until next time! <3 
> 
> Scream at me anytime on tumblr @themoonandotherslikeit
> 
> Thanks for everything!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright y’all! I know this was an absolutely wild ride. I plan on updating this fic weekly (not sure what day, I’m still trying to decide) please please let me  
> Know your thoughts! This is going to be a roller coaster of emotion, fear, and angst. :) if you’re along for the ride I’ll see you back in a week. Be prepared for pain!


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